We're in for a Bumpy Ride
by sendintheclowns
Summary: The boys are on their way to Bobby’s so Dean can help him with a hunt. Sam is still weak from a stay in the hospital and he is still hearing voices. Dean will need to be at the top of his game in order to save his brother.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: The Brothers Winchester are on their way to Bobby's so Dean can lend him a hand with a hunt. Sam is still weak from his stay in the hospital – blood poisoning as a result of a run in with Gordon and holy water as well as kidney complications from the car accident that put Dean in a coma – and he's still hearing voices. Dean will need to be at the top of his game in order to save his brother.

Action takes place directly after _They're Here_ but you don't have to read that story first.

A/N: Thank you to Faye Dartmouth for trying to rein in this monster. You're a great beta even when the fic won't behave.

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Chapter 1

Dean and Sam had hit the road even before the sun had slouched up over the horizon. Dean was twitchy with anticipation, a cocky smile on his face, pleased to be heading away from Ellen and Ash and toward a new job. He knew he owed them for stepping in and helping out Sam but he was sick of watching them fawn over his brother. Sam was his brother, his responsibility.

Axl Rose was wailing "Live and Let Die" and Dean reached forward to turn the volume up a notch. He had his car, some tunes and his brother by his side again. Life was good.

He glanced at Sam out of the corner of his eye and saw Sam flinch as the music pulsed through the car more loudly.

Dean felt a little sheepish. He was trying to make Sam's trip as pleasant as possible, not give him a migraine. "Sorry, I guess I got a little carried away," Dean said as he turned the volume back down. "You okay over there?" Dean noticed that Sam kept pinching the bridge of his nose and squinting into the sun.

Sam rubbed the heel of his palm into his left eye. "This sun is killing my head. Do you think we could stop for some cheap sunglasses?" Sam heard the whine in his own voice. He disliked it but he was past caring -- between Guns N' Roses and the sun he really had a killer headache. He was trying hard not to be a killjoy. He owed his brother so much. Dean was transparently happy to be on the road again but with each passing mile he felt worse and worse.

"ZZ Top. I love that song. I think I've got that tape somewhere," Dean said, referring to Sam's use of "cheap sunglasses." "We'll stop up here at the next gas station. I could use some more caffeine." Dean spotted a gas station up on the right and exited the highway. Dean was so jazzed at the moment nothing could keep him down.

Sam looked disbelievingly at Dean. "You're vibrating as it is, why would you think you need more caffeine?" Sam threw an empty paper cup, drained of coffee by Dean earlier that morning, at his brother.

"Hey, hey. No distracting the driver." Dean was happy to see that Sam was getting into the spirit of things. This was exactly what he'd had in mind when he talked Sam into heading out on a new job.

Sam shifted in the passenger seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. The truth was that all of Dean's energy seemed to be zapping Sam's and he was beginning to think he wasn't up to being on the road again. He'd woken up this morning feeling groggy and dizzy, like he had a hangover. He had put it off to nerves but now he wasn't so sure.

He pushed the feelings of doubt aside. Dean had put his life on hold while Sam was recuperating. There was no way he was going to rain on Dean's parade.

Dean wheeled the Impala expertly off the road and coasted up to the gas station. He hit Sam lightly on the chest and said, "Let's see if we can find you some Daffy Duck sunglasses. I seem to recall that you were heartbroken when you lost that one pair."

"Dude, I was five. And if I recall, Dad said he'd buy me a new pair and never did," Sam said as he climbed out of the car, stretching.

As Sam commented about their father all's Dean could focus on was the part about their dad not living up to his word. Dean felt bile rise in his throat. He slammed out of the car into the cool morning air. He wasn't ready to talk to Sam about their dad yet and here he was, needling him again

Lightheadedness overwhelmed Sam and he eased himself back onto the passenger seat. Everything around him seemed to be lazily spinning.

Dean missed seeing Sam's failed exit out of the car as he stalked around the front of the car. As if a switch had been flipped Dean felt rage begin to simmer. Sam just couldn't leave it alone. He was always picking at things. Tell me how you're feeling, explain things to me…he never knew when to leave things alone.

He was about to haul Sam out of the car when he got a good look at Sam's face. Sam didn't look belligerent or snide. He looked nauseous. Dean felt his anger quickly drain away. He had told Sam that nothing would hurt him while his big brother was around and here he had been contemplating doing the harming himself.

"What's wrong?" Dean demanded. Even though Sam had been slowly mending since his release from the hospital his color hadn't yet regained its healthy hue. Right now he was sporting a "whiter shade of pale." Dean reached down and gently angled Sam's face up so he could look into his eyes. They were clear. Dean felt relief course through him. He had been afraid that Sam was sick again.

After all, Dean was happy to be on the road again but not at the risk of Sam's health. He patted Sam's shoulder and asked, "Can I get you anything else from inside? Maybe you need some food."

Sam slowly shook his head. He wasn't hungry. He had taken his meds that morning before they left so he knew he was fine there. It was just a simple headache. And now he was laying a guilt trip on Dean, making him worry about him. Again. "I'm good. I think I'll just wait for you here."

Dean looked searchingly at Sam and then sighed. Dean couldn't force Sam to tell him what was going on so he just had to trust that he was fine. "I'll be right back."

Dean thought briefly about Sam's behavior. Before their Dad's death Dean had felt a special connection with Sam and could tell what was going on with him; he only had to look into Sam's eyes to get the whole story. Now the connection seemed to have been broken and Dean had to rely on Sam to tell him what he was feeling or what he needed. Unfortunately Sam, the original caring sharing soul, had clammed up on him.

Dean hustled through the gas station mart and grabbed some essentials, including some black sunglasses for Sam and strong black coffee for himself. He itched to hit the road again. He wasn't sure why but he felt driven to get away from Ellen and Ash and immerse himself in a job. Dean didn't like all the self reflection he had experienced due to the recent weeks of inactivity. Dean was a man of action, not words.

Sam tilted his head back against the seat and tried to relax.

_They're here_.

Sam turned his head from left and right, frantically trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. No one was there.

Sam leaned his head against the cool glass of the window and closed his eyes. His heart was racing and he was trembling. He concentrated on his breathing, trying to get it back under control.

_Sam, they're here._

Why was this happening? He wasn't dreaming and he wasn't having a vision. He felt powerless but he didn't know what to do.

He wanted to tell Dean but something was holding him back. Sam trusted Dean with his life but he wasn't sure he trusted him with his sanity. Things had been more relaxed between the brothers in the last couple of weeks but there were still some trust issues. He just needed to pull himself together.

"Here you go. Someone must have snapped up the last pair of the Daffy edition before we arrived. I hope these will do." Dean lightly threw the sunglasses onto Sam's lap as he slid into the driver's seat.

Sam flinched as the glasses landed on his thigh. Dean realized that Sam hadn't heard him approaching. If he hadn't already known that Sam was still recovering from his recent brush with death this would have been solid confirmation that Sam wasn't well enough to hunt. Dean gently elbowed Sam with his elbow, "Hey, anyone home in there?"

Sam turned his head and looked Dean in the eye. "Sorry, I guess I was lost in thought. Thanks for the glasses." He quickly slid the glasses on his face. He was embarrassed that Dean had snuck up on him, especially since Dean hadn't been trying to do that.

Sam felt a bone deep weariness that sucked the remaining energy right of him. He was trying to assert himself as an equal, something his dad had never allowed, and he didn't want to appear weak to his brother. "Let's get this rust bucket on the road." Sam tried to distract Dean. He didn't want to be such a burden.

Even though the sunglasses masked Sam's eyes, they couldn't mask the defeat that radiated from Sam. Something was going on with his baby brother. But Sam seemed to be making an effort to lighten the mood so Dean allowed himself to be carried along.

"Rust bucket? You'd better watch it or she'll dump you on the side of the road and make you walk to Bobby's." Dean petted the dashboard lovingly, "It's okay. Don't listen to him. He's just upset that they didn't have the frames he wanted." Dean saw Sam's lips quirk as if to smile and then his expression flattened out again.

The Impala disappeared over a hill and wandered east toward Bobby's. The brothers were back on the road.

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Dean was so wound up he felt like he could fly. His fingers drumming on the steering wheel in time to the music, he glanced at the speedometer and noticed they almost were flying – they were doing close to 100 mph. He'd made himself pull back a little even though it felt good to be moving past the landscape so quickly. Dean wanted them to get to Bobby's today but he wanted them to get there in one piece.

Dean checked his watch. Since their brief stop at the gas station earlier that morning, the brothers had been on the road non stop for six hours. He didn't know about his brother but Dean needed to stretch his legs, grab a bite to eat, feed the Impala, and relieve his bladder. Not necessarily in that order. Dean stretched in the driver's seat and glanced over at Sam. His head was tilted at an angle against the window.

"Sam. You awake?" Dean asked Sam.

Sam slowly stretched in his seat and stifled a yawn. Sam had been asleep but was now trying to wake up.

"What's up?" Sam sleepily said, turning to look at Dean. He tried to rub his eyes but his fists met the resistance of the sunglasses and dropped back down to the seat. Sam was accustomed to waking up in a coherent state but everything seemed fuzzy at the moment. His lack of focus would normally have aggravated him but he couldn't seem to pull his thoughts together enough to be concerned.

Dean smiled fondly at Sam. Even with his eyes hidden behind the black sunglasses Dean could tell that Sam wasn't quite awake. It reminded him of when Sam was a toddler waking up from a nap. All soft and warm. It was a far cry from the contrary teen Sam would morph into or the steely determination of the now grown Sam. Or at least that was how Sam had been before their dad's death. Dean wasn't so sure now. In the past his brother had always been able to focus all of his energy on whatever circumstance he found himself in – like single mindedly preparing for a hunt or getting into Stanford - but now he seemed directionless. It was disconcerting for Dean to witness.

"It's lunch time," Dean announced. They turned off the interstate into a gas station with a diner attached. Dean was out of the car and around to the passenger side before Sam could get his seat belt off. This wasn't due to Dean's haste, Sam simply couldn't figure out how to get himself out of the car.

Sam glanced blearily up at Dean. He was chagrined that he couldn't make his limbs function the way he wanted them to at the moment. He hated being dependant upon anyone but that seemed to be status quo at the moment.

"Need some help there?" Dean had opened the door and was leaning across Sam to release the seat belt. Sam allowed Dean to take his arm and tug him out of the car. Dean steadied Sam as he staggered awkwardly against him.

"Damn, what kind of meds do they have you on and how can I get my hands on some?" Dean teased Sam as he gently steered him into the diner. Sam's grogginess amused Dean to no end as he watched his usually graceful brother stumble about, long limbs flailing, but amusement slowly turned to concern. Sam thrived on being in control and he was anything but right now. The normally calm, cool and collected Sam was stumbling around like a newborn colt.

Dean felt a little better as Sam seemed to gain control of his limbs and stand without assistance. They slid into a booth near the back of the diner. Sam propped his chin on his hand and stared out the window while Dean grabbed a menu.

A short while later the requisite gum smacking middle aged diner waitress, Patti her nametag proclaimed, sidled up to the booth and said, "What can I get you two sweet young things this fine day?"

Dean smiled up at Patti and gave her his order. "Double cheeseburger, fries and a coke, please." He flirted lightly with her, being well versed in the diner service rules. He pretty much motored on auto pilot as he made small talk with her. Patti indicated that things were slow at the diner at the moment and Dean offered, winking an eye, to liven things up.

Patti batted her eyelashes at Dean, all in good fun, before turning to Sam, "And how about you, sweetie, what'll you have?" Patti turned her charm on Sam.

Dean turned away from Patti and looked expectantly at Sam. His brother had a spacey look on his face and continued to look out the window. The menu before him remained untouched.

Dean didn't think Sam was being intentionally rude but he decided he'd better order for Sam if they wanted to still make Bobby's tonight. "You'll have to forgive my brother, he suffers from motion sickness and the medicine really knocks him out. He'll have a grilled chicken sandwich, side salad, and water." Dean smiled winningly at Patti, willing her to move on from their table.

"Thanks, doll. Your order will be right up." Patti sauntered off in the direction of the kitchen.

Dean watched until he was certain she was out of earshot. "Dude, what's with you?" Dean asked as he kicked Sam in the shin under the table.

Sam turned away from the window toward Dean while muffling another yawn. "What?" Sam replied. Semi coherent at best he rubbed the heel of his hand into his left eye setting the sunglasses askew on his face.

Dean reached forward and pulled the sunglasses off of Sam's face so he could see his eyes. They still looked clear. Sam just looked exhausted. Dean was beginning to feel a little annoyed and tried to snap Sam out of his funk.

"Nothing. We're going to eat a quick lunch and then I'll put you down for another nap." Dean sat back and waited to see if his crack about a nap would penetrate.

Failing to receive any response from Sam, not even a blink, he tried a new tact. "Jesus, Sam. Maybe I need to find you a doctor."

Usually the threat of a doctor was enough to send Sam into a panic. He'd never liked them before but after his recent stint in the hospital Dean knew Sam didn't want anything to do with the health care profession. He'd had his fill of them. Sam looked concerned for a moment and then yawned again. He was too muzzy to care.

Hunger warring with concern, Dean reluctantly decided that Sam was just worn out from the extra activity of being on the road again.

Patti approached the table with their order. After setting the food in front of the brothers she quickly backed away from the suddenly silent table to leave the brothers in peace.

Dean fell upon his food ravenously. Sam slowly picked at his meal, taking just enough bites and arranging the remains on his plate so that it looked as if he'd had more than he really had. Dean wished Sam's appetite would return but at least Sam had given it a shot. He was trying despite his exhaustion.

By the end of the meal Sam had even rallied enough to listen to Dean talk, primarily about how happy he was to be on the road again.

"I feel so much better away from the Roadhouse, don't you? I mean don't get me wrong, everyone was great to us but I was really feeling antsy." Dean thought Ellen and Ash had paid a little too much attention to Sam and had found it cloying but he really didn't know how Sam felt about leaving them behind. Sam was silent for so long that he didn't think he was going to find out but then Sam surprised him by answering.

"I guess I'm relieved to be away. I can't really explain it though," Sam answered. Ellen and Ash had been so solicitous of him it was hard to fault them. At first it had been comforting but at the end he'd found it stifling.

Dean didn't want to press Sam further. He was content that his brother was beginning to share his thoughts again. Dean felt vindicated. Getting out on the road had been just what the doctor ordered for Sam in his opinion.

The brothers paid for their meal and hit the facilities before wandering out to the car. Dean filled the Impala as Sam slowly walked around the parking lot, stretching his long legs out. Dean kept one eye on his brother as he paid the attendant. Sam walked up to the car at the same time as Dean. Sam was more alert which pleased Dean.

Dean couldn't resist teasing Sam, "You need some help with that seat belt, Sam?"

Sam shot him a one finger salute in response.

Dean stifled a grin, realizing even a silent Sam could communicate when needed. "Let's see if we can make Bobby's by night fall. I'm sure you're new baby sitter is getting anxious."

Sam sent Dean a sour look before his dimples flashed. Dean felt relief flood through him. He felt that maybe everything was going to be okay after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Summary: The Brothers Winchester are on their way to Bobby's so Dean can lend him a hand with a hunt. Sam is still weak from his stay in the hospital – blood poisoning as a result of a run in with Gordon and holy water as well as kidney complications from the car accident that put Dean in a coma – and he's still hearing voices. Dean will need to be at the top of his game in order to save his brother.

Action takes place directly after _They're Here_ but you don't have to read that story first.

A/N: If you like anything about this chapter chances are the wonderful beta, Faye Dartmouth, had a hand in it. And now, on with the show...

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Chapter 2

It was twilight when the Impala pulled onto the road leading up to Bobby's house. Dean felt a twinge of concern as he turned toward Sam. He'd been sleeping soundly since they'd left the diner for lunch, not even waking when Dean had stopped for something to drink a few hours ago.

Dean put his right hand out and felt Sam's forehead but he didn't detect a fever. Dean couldn't understand why Sam was so tired. He'd definitely been doing better up until today.

The lack of fever was a relief. But it was time for his brother to snap out of it and wake up. His brow furrowed, he called out softly, "Sam, we're almost there."

Sam jerked upright suddenly, startling Dean. His entire body was rigid, his eyes blinking frantically.

Sam was so tired--so doggedly, unbelievably tired--that all his body wanted was to sleep. It called to him on every level, and he could feel the pull deep within his bones.

His mind, however, was a different story. It stubbornly clung to consciousness, unwilling to give in. After all, sleeping would only rouse Dean's worry, and Sam was tired of playing the sick little brother. He just wanted to move on, to restore the balance between them.

Maybe if he wasn't so damned tired...

He felt himself drifting but didn't have the power to stop it. His mind wafted, moving lazily through his worries. It was soft and warm, but his head hurt distantly, but he didn't have the willpower to do anything about it.

Then his tentative peace was shattered.

_They're here.  
_  
Sam tensed, almost flinched mentally, and his mind screamed for his body to wake up.

_Sam, they're here.  
_  
The whisper was encompassing and echoed in his ears. He felt it, reverberating through him, pulsing in tandem with his rapidly increasing heartbeat.

_Sam, you have to listen to us. They're here._

What was it? What did it want?

There were no answers. Just that voice and the dark foreboding feeling that he couldn't overcome...

"Whoa," Dean said, reaching an arm out to steady him. "Take it easy, Sammy. We're almost at Bobby's;"

Dean watched as Sam shook his head as if trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind.

Dean returned his attention to the road but out of the corner of his eye he saw Sam punch himself in the thigh.

"Dude, what are you doing?" he asked with growing concern.

Sam turned around and looked around the back of the car before relaxing back into his own seat.

With apprehension Dean snapped his fingers in front of Sam's face. "Earth to Sam."

Dean knew that nightmares still plagued Sam's sleep and on more than one occasion Dean had held Sam as he coaxed him back to sleep. Dean rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Maybe Sam was having a vision. In Sam's weakened physical condition it was the last thing he needed. He sure was acting strangely, even for Sam.

Sam shifted in his seat so that he was facing his brother, running a hand across his face. "I can't believe we're already here. Why didn't you wake me earlier? I could have taken a turn behind the wheel for at least a little while," Sam said, trying to sound coherent.

"You've got to be joking Sam. The last we tried that you wrapped the car around a semi." Dean winced at the sound of his own voice. Dean was just teasing but it had come out sounding harsher than Dean had intended.

Dean watched as Sam retreated back into himself right before his eyes. Dean cursed himself. He reached out to touch Sam but let his hand drop to his side. He still had some issues to work through regarding Dad and for that matter Sam. He'd lived his whole life taking care of the two of them. Now there was just Sam and he didn't want to drive him away.

The rest of the drive lapsed into uncomfortable silence. They were a few minutes from Bobby's place when Dean realized that Sam had drifted off again. Narcolepsy? African Sleeping Sickness? Whatever the problem, it was started to grate on Dean. Instead of getting better Sam was deteriorating before his eyes.

They pulled up in front of Bobby's house. "Come on, Sam. Let's get you inside. I'll come back out for our stuff in a while." Dean shifted into nursemaid mode as he realized that Sam hadn't slept this much during the day since he was in the hospital.

Dean once again came around the car and helped Sam out and up the steps toward the door. Instead of shaking off Dean's help Sam leaned into Dean for support. It was a bit disconcerting. Mr. Independence had been replaced with docility.

The porch light came on, spilling light across the worn planks. The screen door flew open and Bobby emerged, grabbing Dean's hand and giving it a quick squeeze. "It's good to see you Dean. Thanks for coming down." Bobby turned toward Sam and guffawed, "Hey Hollywood."

Sam looked at Dean with a perplexed expression.

Dean rolled his eyes. "He's talking about these," Dean said jokingly as he gently pulled the sunglasses off of Sam's face.

Realization slowly dawned on Sam's face. He felt his face burn with embarrassment. He turned toward Bobby and put his hand out sheepishly. Bobby firmly grasped it before pulling Sam into his arms for a quick hug and thump on the back. For Bobby that was a pretty strong show of emotion.

As Bobby released him Sam staggered back a step. Dean quickly steadied Sam with a hand to the small of his back. Bobby and Dean exchanged a look. Bobby raised an eyebrow, clearly concerned. Dean shook his head once. Bobby took the hint and ushered the brothers into the house.

"If you two want to get washed up I've got tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. Nothing fancy but it should stop the hunger pains." Bobby had Sam and Dean quickly settled at the table and began putting food down in front of them.

"So how did the Impala handle?" Bobby asked. Dean and Bobby had a shared passion for cars and he knew Dean had poured body and soul into restoring the Impala after the crash. He was eager to hear if it was good as new.

Dean was thrilled to talk about the car. "You wouldn't believe how well it handled. Better than before. The new suspension worked like a dream – thanks again for finding the parts for me. It was the smoothest ride ever. And the acceleration…I floored it and it never missed a beat."

The conversation regarding the Impala continued to swirl on. Both Bobby and Dean took turns shooting surreptitious glances at Sam as they ate their dinner. Sam didn't participate in the conversation at all and this was drawing concern from both his brother and Bobby.

Sam once again nibbled at his food, oblivious to the other men's concern. He tried to follow the conversation but was having a hard time focusing again. He could hear Dean talking animatedly about the Impala and the trip and Bobby responding in an interested tone.

The voices began to blur together and he slowly pushed his food away and put his elbow on the table while propping his head up on his hand. Maybe he would just rest his eyes for a moment.

Bobby stopped in mid sentence as he watched Sam settle his head across his folded arms on the tabletop.

"Okay Dean, what the hell is going on with this boy?" Bobby had tried to restrain himself but with each passing moment in Sam's company it had been apparent that Sam wasn't himself. "I thought you said he was better?"

Dean was annoyed; he was doing everything he could to take care of his little brother. He knew Bobby cared about their well being and relented. He shrugged saying, "I swear he was doing fine. For the past week his energy was up and he was spending most of the time awake. Today it's as if he has a case of sleeping sickness."

"Well something's not right. I'll help you get him upstairs. Maybe a good night's sleep will do the trick." Bobby could see that Dean was also concerned. Many people had mistaken Dean's brashness for narcissism in the past but that wasn't true at all. Dean loved his family beyond belief and would do anything for them. Bobby could tell that Sam's previous illness had really shaken Dean. Looking at Sam now Bobby could see why. Sam just looked wrecked.

Bobby and Dean pushed and pulled a groggy Sam up the stairs. Bobby motioned Dean toward the room that Dean had used last time. Dean agreed. Sam deserved the bed. Dean would be fine on the couch. As they entered the room with Sam between them Dean saw that Bobby had done a little redecorating. There were now two single beds occupying the room. Dean heaved a sigh of relief. He wanted to be near Sam during the night in case he needed him and Bobby had made that possible.

"Dean, you go ahead and get him settled. I'm going to bring your bags up. Come on down when you're done. We can talk about the job if you want." Bobby started for the door.

Dean actually felt fine but he wanted to stay close to Sam. Something was off with his brother. He was eager to talk to Bobby about the reason he was down here but it would have to wait. Sam was more important than any job. "Thanks, Bobby. I feel kind of done in myself. Is it okay if we talk about the job tomorrow?"

Bobby thought about the spirit roaming the cemetery a half a state away. It had been increasing in strength but was more interested in causing mischief then harm. "Sure, Dean. It's waited this long. It can wait another day. I'll be right back with your stuff." Glancing over his shoulder at Sam, worry etched on his forehead, Bobby disappeared out the door and down the stairs.

Sam was lying awkwardly across the bed. Dean pulled Sam's shoes off and settled the pillow firmly under his head. He pulled the plaid comforter off the other bed and spread it gently over his brother. He leaned forward and brushed the bangs aside so he could touch Sam's forehead with the back of his hand. Still cool to the touch. Dean squeezed Sam's shoulder gently.

Dean stepped into the hall and grabbed the bags from Bobby. They said soft goodnights before Dean closed the door, leaning back against it. Dean didn't understand how someone could sleep so many hours but since Sam was still recovering from his infection and surgery he tried not to become too anxious over it.

The day hadn't ended like Dean had envisioned but tomorrow was a new day. _Just shoot me. I'm starting to think in clichés. I really need some sleep. _And with that Dean shut off the lights and climbed into bed.


	3. Chapter 3

Summary: The Brothers Winchester are on their way to Bobby's so Dean can lend him a hand with a hunt. Sam is still weak from his stay in the hospital – blood poisoning as a result of a run in with Gordon and holy water as well as kidney complications from the car accident that put Dean in a coma – and he's still hearing voices. Dean will need to be at the top of his game in order to save his brother.

Action takes place directly after _They're Here_ but you don't have to read that story first.

A/N: I'd like to thank Faye Dartmouth, beta extraordinaire.

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Chapter 3

It was a stroke past midnight when Dean awakened to the familiar sounds of Sam in distress. Sam was whimpering in his sleep and Dean found himself stumbling out of the comfort of his warm bed to comfort his younger brother.

Dean sat on the side of Sam's bed and squinted in the darkness. His eyes slowly adjusted to show the moonlight streaming weakly across the bed where he now sat. Dean felt a catch in his chest as he saw Sam curled on his side, comforter thrown back, wetness on his exposed cheek. He hated seeing his independent brother in this condition. Wrung out and exposed.

Dean rubbed his brother's shoulder and arm, trying to work some warmth into the skin while attempting to rouse Sam. When that didn't work, and the whimpers reached a new crescendo, Dean carefully hauled Sam into his arms. Folding Sam against his chest he stroked a hand slowly through his soft hair, whispering nonsense in the hopes it would bring some comfort.

Dean was surprised when Sam suddenly pushed away from him. Through the shadows he could see that Sam's eyes were open and staring at him.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," Sam whispered as he gingerly pushed himself off of the bed and headed for the hallway.

Dean scooped up his comforter and moved back to his bed while he listened to the distant sound of a flushing toilet followed by running water.

Sam quietly entered the room and slid back under his covers. Dean had expected embarrassment from Sam; after all he had awakened to find himself being cuddled by his older brother. Hell, Dean was embarrassed. But as Sam relaxed against his pillow Dean allowed himself to relax. Before long both brothers were sleeping deeply.

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Dawn was just breaking as Dean stretched in the bed. He let his thoughts wander as his brain booted up for the day. He couldn't wait for his first cup of coffee. Lord he needed that right now. He needed to jumpstart his brain and even the sludge that Bobby served would do the trick.

Content to relax in the warmth of the bed for a moment Dean realized he was eager to talk to Bobby about the aforementioned salt and burn. He craved some action, any action. As much as he loved his little brother he wasn't cut out for being a nursemaid.

Deciding that he was ready to face the day Dean heaved himself out of bed, gathered his things together and headed toward the door on his way to the bathroom where a hot shower awaited him. Dean had reclaimed his comforter when Sam had gotten up but he'd felt chilled all night. He hoped he wasn't coming down with something. He wasn't achy or anything but he'd had some pretty funky dreams that tended to end with him screaming at Sam over no discernable reason. Instead of reigniting his anger the dreams had left him feeling sad. Dean had no reason to be mad at Sam so he wasn't sure what kind of tricks his subconscious was trying to play on him.

Thinking of his brother Dean looked over at Sam and saw that he was still peacefully sleeping on his back in the same position he'd been in since midnight. He was relieved that Sam was finally logging some z's. Around midnight was when Sam had started whimpering in his sleep and Dean had gone over to comfort him. Instead of settling back to sleep as had been the norm recently he had woken up in Dean's arms. Dean's face flushed as he recalled how awkward he had felt when Sam woke up in his arms. But it didn't seem to faze his brother. The only positive thing Dean could claim about the experience was that Sam had seemed completely coherent.

Dean quickly made his way into the bathroom and turned the hot water on full blast. He hoped that would chase the chill out of his bones. Dean toweled off and finished dressing before heading to the kitchen. After checking on Sam again and satisfying himself that he was still resting peacefully he traipsed downstairs toward the smell of brewing coffee.

The coffee smelled heavenly. Too bad it wouldn't taste as good as it smelled. He knew this from first hand experience.

"Morning Bobby," Dean nodded to Bobby as he sailed into the kitchen.

Bobby grabbed a mug and poured a steaming cup of coffee for Dean. "Here, I know it's no use trying to talk to you until you've gotten that first cup down your gullet." Bobby grabbed up his own mug and began puttering around the kitchen.

Dean sank down gratefully into a kitchen chair and cautiously tasted the brew. "Bobby, this is incredible. It actually tastes like coffee." Dean couldn't believe his good fortune. This tasted nothing like the slop Bobby had served during his last visit.

Bobby cracked a smile. "You have your brother to thank for that. I took Sam's advice and ran vinegar through the machine. Who knew a clean machine could make such a difference." Bobby shook his head.

Dean shook his head and smiled. For someone who had moved around as much as they had growing up Sam had managed to pick up all sorts of home-making skills that made their transient existence more comfortable.

"Okay Robert, why don't you tell me the particulars of the job. I'm ready for a little action." Dean said rubbing his hands together in anticipation. Bobby pulled out a chair and joined Dean at the table. Both men leaned in as they began discussing the details of the job in earnest.

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Upstairs Sam was sluggishly moving around the bedroom. He found his medicine and set it out on the nightstand. He grabbed up some clean clothes and then sat back down hard on the bed.

Dragging a hand through his hair he snorted in disgust. He couldn't remember if he'd taken the pills.

Sam poured the pills out into his hand and then diligently counted them out while refilling the bottle. Yes, he had already taken his meds.

Gathering the rest of his things together Sam found himself sighing. He sure hoped today wasn't going to be a repeat of yesterday. He thought when he'd left the hospital that he'd left sleeping the days away behind him.

Sam's mood shifted from melancholy to frustration. He wasn't sure how much more of Dean's hovering he could take. He felt as though he was under a microscope all of the time and that every little move he made was wrong. At least in Dean's eyes.

Sam stomped into the bathroom and started the shower. He knew he was really crabby yet he couldn't seem to shake himself out of his mood. Just what he needed, to give Dean more fuel for "don't mind Sam, he has PMS" or "Samantha's on the rag again." God he hated that.

After his shower Sam glanced in the mirror and was dismayed by the sight. As much as it pained him he had to admit that he looked sickly. No wonder Dean was treating him like a kid.

Sam took a deep breath to pull himself together. Mind over matter. If he acted like he was on the mend maybe Dean would let up on the mother hen routine.

Sam decided he was fit to face his brother and Bobby as he headed down the stairs. He smiled as he heard the excitement in Dean's voice as they talked about a cemetery. Sam found his own interest piqued.

Maybe he was rushing or maybe he became dizzy. Sam couldn't remember the cause but as he reached the second to the last step he slipped and tumbled across the floor.

Before Sam could pick himself up off the ground Dean and Bobby were rushing to help him. What a way to make an entrance, Sam thought. He could feel his face heating up as embarrassment crawled over him. That was not the way to go about proving that you could handle yourself.

Sam pulled himself away from Dean and Bobby. "Thanks. I can take it from here." Sam headed into the kitchen and slowly sank down into a chair.

"Sam, what the hell happened?" Dean asked gruffly. Sam silently ground his teeth together as he heard the underlying concern in Dean's voice.

"Jesus, Dean. Would you give it a rest? I tripped. It's that simple." Sam snapped back. Sam was getting sick of being coddled. Actually Sam was sick of being sick.

"Fine. Sue me for caring," Dean snarled back before turning his attention to Bobby who had pulled up another chair. When your brother did a swan dive right in front of you it was normal to be concerned. But Sam didn't seem to agree.

Dean moved away from Sam and dropped into a chair. He shot Bobby a glance. Bobby raised his eyebrows at Dean. Both men had witnessed this mood before.

Dean didn't particularly care for the attitude but oddly it made him feel better because Sam wasn't being passive anymore. Passive-aggressive Dean knew how to handle. Complete passivity hadn't really suited Sam in Dean's opinion.

Bobby treated this flare up between the brothers as he always had; he ignored it. John must have had the patience of a saint. Bobby sniggered to himself as he thought no one had probably ever accused John of possessing patience.

Ignoring his pouting brother Dean continued to ply Bobby with questions about the cemetery.

The conversation swirled around Sam who stopped paying attention as his thoughts turned inward. He had wanted to show Dean that he was better, that he wasn't an invalid. His awkward dismount from the stairs had dispelled that notion as Dean had given him that look – part pity and part condescension. Overwhelmed with feelings of failure he furiously blinked back tears. He needed to get some air. Abruptly, he stood up and left the kitchen.

Dean and Bobby looked after him as the front door slammed with authority.

"Oh my god, it's the return of Samantha," Dean couldn't help commenting. Irritation with his brother's juvenile behavior won out over his concern. Little brothers could be such a pain in the ass sometimes.


	4. Chapter 4

Summary: The brothers are on their way to Bobby's so Dean can lend him a hand with a hunt. Sam is still weak from his stay in the hospital – blood poisoning as a result of a run in with Gordon and holy water as well as kidney complications from the car accident that put Dean in a coma – and he's still hearing voices. Dean will need to be at the top of his game in order to save his brother.

Action takes place directly after _They're Here_ (post ELAC and Bloodlust) but I don't think you need to read that story first in order to understand what's going on in this fic.

A/N: This is a slow chapter but the action will pick up in future chapters. I promise. And thanks for the beta, Faye.

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Chapter 4

The cirrus clouds streaked across the light blue sky. Squinting against the brilliant sun Sam stumbled through Bobby's car wasteland, tears clouding his vision. He harshly rubbed his face before sinking down against the base of an oak tree at the edge of the yard. Sam put his head down on his knees while wrapping his arms tightly around his legs. He suddenly felt dizzy. He realized his dramatic exit had left him feeling lethargic and the sun was making his head pound.

Sam felt his emotions spiraling out of control and he struggled to master them. Feeling rational and sane one moment and teetering on the edge of hysteria the next he felt out of his depth. If it was one thing he'd always prided himself on it was his control. He pulled in a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself and was shocked when a sob burst free as he exhaled.

Despite Dean's teasing Sam had never been one to give in to tears easily. He was every bit as tough as the name Winchester demanded. Any softness had been pummeled out of him at a young age as he trained to become a hunter. That was one thing for which John couldn't fault Sam.

Sam found himself sobbing in earnest as he thought of his father. If Sam had thought his childhood was tough this last year had proved to be absolutely brutal. He wasn't sure how much more he could take. On the heels of losing the peace and happiness he had with Jess he was stunned with the death of his larger than life father. Sam drifted off to sleep in misery.

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Dean and Bobby had finished drawing up their plan in the kitchen hours ago. Dean was inclined to let Sam pout for a while but he was starting to get worried because Sam hadn't returned to the house.

Warning bells were starting to go off as Dean reflecting on Sam's behavior the last couple of days. First he slept the whole trip down here and then his normally placid, mature brother began reenacting his hormonal teenage years. Not only that but he was withdrawing from Dean again.

Dean would never admit it to anyone but when Sam had pulled away from him after his tumble down the stairs he'd been rattled. Instead of allowing Dean to make sure he was okay Sam had pushed him away. He thought Sam had forgiven him for the way he'd treated him after their father's death but the distance between them seemed to be waxing again.

The Impala was still parked out front so Sam was on foot. Dean decided he'd better look for him. He didn't want things getting out of hand between them and he needed to reassure himself that his brother hadn't hurt himself.

Dean wandered through the sea of cars that populated Bobby's back yard. He was about to start calling Sam's name when he noticed him leaning up against a big oak tree at the farthest most corner of the yard. Dean broke into a sprint as he realized Sam's head was down on his knees. His heartbeat kicked up a notch as adrenaline surged through him; maybe Sam had hurt himself during his tumble down the stairs after all.

"Sam, are you okay?" Dean asked as he bent over and gently shook Sam's shoulder. The pressure of Dean's touch was enough to unbalance Sam and send him sprawling onto his side. Dean sat back on his heels stunned at this turn of events.

Dean noted that Sam was breathing but that was the only movement coming from Sam.

"Sam?" Dean called out while crouching down next to his brother. He cradled Sam's face between his hands. Sam's eyelashes were fanned out against his cheeks. He still wasn't stirring. Dean tried patting Sam's check to get some sort of response but Sam remained still and silent.

Dean gently pulled Sam into his arms. Sam's legs were sprawled out haphazardly while his back rested against Dean's chest. Dean wasn't sure he should have moved Sam but he felt better holding his baby brother. He placed a hand over Sam's heart and could feel it thudding slowly. His breathing was deep and sure. He just wasn't responding to Dean.

Once again Dean felt he was failing Sam. As guilty as he'd felt for contributing to Sam's infection with the holy water and then over being banned from Sam's hospital room he cringed when he remembered punching his brother when they had argued over Gordon Walker. He couldn't believe he'd punched his own brother. Not in jest but in anger.

And now Sam seemed to be slipping away from him. He didn't know what was wrong and he didn't know how to fix it.

"Come on Sammy. You need to wake up and tell me what's wrong," Dean pleaded. He tilted Sam's head back so it was propped in the crook of his arm. He reached up and brushed the hair back from Sam's face. The shadows beneath Sam's eyes were startling against the pallor of his face. His whole body had a gauntness that Dean didn't like.

Dean also noticed tear tracks on Sam's face and his cheeks were blotchy. It looked like his brother had indulged in quite a crying jag. Dean knew this was not normal behavior for Sam. Hell, Sam had cried very little after both his girlfriend's death as well as their father's.

On the verge of calling for help Dean noticed that Sam's eyelashes were fluttering. Two large, bleary eyes were looking at Dean. Looking for answers.

"Dean, what happened? Where am I?" Sam croaked out to Dean.

Dean didn't know what to tell Sam. He didn't know what had happened to his brother. Dean helped Sam into a sitting position, watching his face closely for signs of distress.

When Dean was satisfied that Sam wouldn't pass out he moved back a little and lightly growled, "Why the hell didn't you tell me you were this bad off?" He'd wanted to take a gentler tact so as not to push Sam farther away but the words tumbled out before he could stop them.

Making eye contact Sam opened his mouth as if to say something, seemed to think better of it, and lapsed back into silence.

Dean watched Sam carefully. He was glad to see Sam awake and upright, but that didn't stop him from wanting to throttle the kid for scaring him. For someone who espoused the need to communicate as staunchly as Sam did, his kid brother sure was doing a crappy job of keeping him in the loop as of late.

Sam remembered the scene he had caused when he fell down the stairs and then stormed out of the house in near hysteria. He didn't think he wanted to remind his brother of those things, though. "I remember the sun hurt my head so I sat down for a while. I don't really remember much else."

Dean studied Sam thoughtfully. It looked like Sam was telling him at least a part of the truth but he was still holding something back. It also looked like Sam was sick. Dammit, Dean felt guilty for talking Sam into coming down to Bobby's. He'd been doing so well. But Dean really needed a break from the Roadhouse crew. And Sam had been agreeable to the trip. How could it be going so wrong so quickly?

Dean pushed the thoughts aside. Before he could do anything, he had to get Sam inside.

"Come on, let's go back to the house and have some lunch." Dean slid an arm behind Sam and helped him to a standing position. Sam wobbled a little and then found his balance. They slowly started picking their way through Bobby's projects toward the house, Dean close by Sam's side.

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Sam tried to sort through what had happened to him just now but he couldn't make heads or tails of it. He wanted to ask Dean what had happened but he was pretty certain his brother had already answered him. Unfortunately Sam couldn't remember what Dean had told him. If he asked again Dean might go off the deep end with the over protective routine. He thought it was one of Dean's most endearing qualities but it also made it hard for Sam to be self reliant.

Dean let Sam set the pace as they made their way back to the house, staying close enough to Sam should he stumble. Dean had tried to be patient with his brother but he realized he wasn't getting anywhere by coddling Sam so he would try laying down the law to his brother.

As they entered the house Dean started snapping out orders. "Come on, Bobby made you a sandwich earlier. Now sit down, shut up and eat it. And no crumbling it up and pushing it around your plate. You need to eat." To his surprise Sam did exactly as he asked without an argument or question.

After lunch Sam rinsed his face and then Dean parked him on the couch downstairs. Dean even draped a throw across Sam which drew a mild reproach from Sam, "I'm not an invalid you know."

Dean crossed his arms before replying, "Sam, you weren't taking a nap under that Oak tree, you fainted! You're going to take it easy for a while if I have to sit on you."

Sam opened his mouth but Dean was in no mood to listen to Sam's protests, "Don't even go there. Just sit back and relax. Listen to your big brother for once."

Dean was relieved when Sam settled back against the couch without further comment. Dean thought maybe he'd overreacted earlier. Sam seemed perfectly reasonable and back in control again.

From his perch on the couch Sam watched as Dean and Bobby made preparations for their visit to the cemetery. He felt useless but he knew he wasn't at the top of his game and there was no way Dean would allow him to go tonight. Maybe while Bobby and Dean were gone he would have a chance to use Bobby's computer.

He wanted to find something that would explain why he felt so awful. He wanted so much to prove himself to his brother, to earn back his trust. He owed it to Dean to get better.


	5. Chapter 5

Summary: The brothers are on their way to Bobby's so Dean can lend him a hand with a hunt. Sam is still weak from his stay in the hospital – blood poisoning as a result of a run in with Gordon and holy water as well as kidney complications from the car accident that put Dean in a coma – and he's still hearing voices. Dean will need to be at the top of his game in order to save his brother.

Action takes place directly after _They're Here_ (post ELAC and Bloodlust) but you don't have to read that story first.

A/N: Thank you again to Faye Dartmouth for hanging in there with me while I grappled with this story. You're quite the beta.

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Chapter 5

It was almost 9:00 p.m. and Bobby had gone outside to load up the car with their provisions. They had a two hour drive ahead of them and if all went well they would be back at Bobby's within six hours.

The brothers lapsed into silence, each deep in their own thoughts.

Dean had some concerns about leaving Sam alone but Sam had assured him he would be fine. How much trouble could he get into at Bobby's? That was what was worrisome to Dean; trouble always seemed to find Sam.

Sam still lounged on the couch, a book held loosely in his hand, largely ignored, as Sam's thoughts drifted toward his brother. He knew Dean was eager to resume his old life on the road, hunting again, and Sam had thought he was up to riding shotgun on this trip. He wracked his brain trying to figure out what he'd done to bring this down upon himself. Whatever it was he'd managed to screw his brother's plans in the process. Perhaps his father and brother had been right about him. Maybe he was just selfish.

And then there were the voices that kept intruding on his life. He wished he could pinpoint why he was hearing them and where they were coming from. For some reason he felt that he'd finally have a chance of getting better if only he could figure out these voices. _They're here. _What did it mean? Something about the voices tickled his memory but he couldn't put it together. Maybe Dean could help him figure it out. Glancing over at his brother he decided he'd wait until he had something more concrete to share with Dean.

Sam decided in order to find some answers he should treat the voices like he would a hunt – starting with research. Sam's eyes followed Bobby as he came back into the house and headed for the kitchen.

Sam sidled up to the counter as Bobby poured coffee into a thermos, "Hey, Bobby, is it okay if I use your computer for a while? There's some stuff I want to check out?"

Bobby paused in the midst of filling the thermos to glance at Sam. If Sam was interested in searching the web for information he must be feeling better. "Sure Sam. Knock yourself out."

Dean hovered in the kitchen doorway, sounding surprised at Sam's request. "I thought you were just going to take it easy while we were gone?" Sam knew that Dean likely had hoped he'd call it a night when they left. After all, Sam was sure that his moody narcoleptic routine earlier had not settled well with his brother.

"I'll be good, I promise. You two better get a move on it. Stay safe, okay?" Sam hauled himself off of the couch and walked the other two men to the door.

Dean searched Sam's face one more time looking for confirmation that Sam would be okay by himself. Satisfied by what he saw he nodded before heading out to the car. He called over his shoulder, "Keep your ass in the house and the cell phone nearby. I want to hear from you if anything freaky happens."

Sam rolled his eyes but he nodded assent. Sam raised his hand as the Impala roared off.

Sam ambled back inside the house, making sure the doors and windows on the first floor were secured. He slowly made his way upstairs grasping the handrail firmly. He didn't want a repeat performance of his previous trip on the stairs. He was halfway up when he had to pause for a moment as he was hit with a wave of dizziness. It passed quickly so he decided to ignore it as he made his way to Bobby's den.

Sam made himself comfortable as the computer booted up. Once it was ready he Googled whatever he could think of that might shed some light on the voice he kept hearing.

Since nothing he tried resulted in anything useful he decided to pull up a health website and entered some of the symptoms he'd been experiencing. Dizziness, confusion, short term memory loss, exhaustion--he was perplexed when the site prompted him to read about sleep deprivation. That couldn't be right. Sleep was all he'd done lately.

Sam read about the different stages of sleep and how disruption in the sleep cycle over a period of time could result in all of the symptoms he'd been experiencing and could even lead to death. Something about lack of sleep suppressing the immune system and screwing with the body's chemical balance.

It certainly would account for why he felt so crappy. Sam just couldn't figure out what could be causing it. As far as he knew he'd been sleeping soundly, perhaps too soundly in some cases. But maybe there was something to it. Although he'd done nothing but sleep for the last two days he felt anything but refreshed. Maybe tomorrow he'd talk to Dean. Dean may be frustrated and worried, but he was the only person Sam had left.

Sam shut down the computer and got ready for bed. He put the cell phone on the nightstand next to the bed and hoped Dean and Bobby were having luck with their job. In no time at all he drifted off to sleep.

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"You should have seen your face when that ghost goosed your butt," Bobby guffawed, slapping his thigh. He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed this hard.

"What can I say? Even female spirits know a prime specimen when they see it," Dean blew on his fist before rubbing it against it against his chest. He couldn't hold the pose as he, too, dissolved into laughter. He fleetingly wished Sam was here to enjoy the moment. Lord knows his brother could use a good laugh.

Even though it was past midnight Dean decided to call Sam and see how he was doing. Sam picked up on the eighth ring. His voice raspy, he slurred out, "'Lo Dean. Everything 'kay?"

Dean couldn't believe how bad his brother sounded. If he didn't know any better he'd think Sam had been drinking. But straight arrow Sam wouldn't do that. Dean felt a twinge of suspicion but replied calmly, "We're fine. The job went well. We'll be home in just under two hours. How's everything there?"

Silence greeted his question. "Hello?" Dean could hear breathing but he wanted to hear Sam's voice.

"Sorry. Everything's good. I let the cat out. See you when you get here." Sam was no longer slurring his words but his comment about the cat caught Dean's attention.

"You let the cat out. What is that, slang?" Dean was confused. He wasn't sure if Sam was trying to get a message to him in code or what was going on.

"What are you talking about? What cat?" Sam asked, yawning widely. Awakened abruptly out of a deep sleep he felt cranky. He thought maybe Dean was yanking his chain.

"That's what I wanted to know. What cat?" He was also afraid they were about to venture into a twisted alternate version of "Who's on first"

"Dean, if this is a joke it isn't funny. Every thing is fine here. I'll see you in a few hours," Sam grumped back.

"Okay, go back to sleep. We'll see you in a while," Dean said before disconnecting the line. Dean was baffled but decided to let it go. He could hear the exhaustion in his brother's voice. But that comment about the cat. He didn't know what to make of it.

Bobby kept his own counsel in the passenger's seat. Dean's side of the conversation had been intriguing but he wasn't about to ask him about it. One look at Dean's face showed that Sam had managed to push his buttons again.

Bobby just shook his head. The Brothers Winchester were something else. They were both headstrong and livewires but they were also both steadfast and honest. He trusted them with his back and was pleased they felt the same about him.

Sometimes he regretted living on his own but just a short while in the company of Winchesters and Bobby was reminded of why being alone wasn't always such a bad thing. Too much drama.

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Bobby and Dean arrived home without incident. It was approaching 3:00 a.m. but Dean still felt restless. The first thing he did when they got there is go upstairs and check on Sam. For all intents and purposes Sam was dead to the world. The comforter was askew and Sam's limbs were poking out.

After the bizarre conversation on the phone about the cat Dean had been trying to keep his concern in check. His body sagged with relief. Sam was fine.

Instead of trying to wake him, Dean let him be. He snugged the comforter up under Sam's chin and went back downstairs. He and Bobby were going to have a brief celebration before calling it a night. Or morning.

An hour later Bobby and Dean said goodnight after raising a toast to a job well done and Dean headed back upstairs. He'd just settled himself into bed when he heard a noise. It sounded like crying. Dean heaved himself back out of bed and crossed over to Sam. Sam was now curled up on his side and seemed to be in distress. Dean reached out and stroked Sam's head. Instead of calming him Sam seemed to become more agitated. Dean wondered if Sam was having a vision.

Sam's crying quickly escalated into sobbing. Nothing Dean tried made a difference. He rubbed Sam's back as he had years ago when Sam suffered horrible growing pains. He spoke gently to Sam, even tried humming a long ago lullaby. Sam was inconsolable.

Dean didn't like the way Sam was spiraling out of control. He finally pulled his hand back and smartly slapped Sam across his cheek. The same cheek where he had left a bruise weeks ago when he had punched Sam. That bruise had taken weeks to fade. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Sam's eyes snapped open as his face rocked to the side. When his eyes focused on Dean he wrenched himself away spilling onto the floor. Dean reached down to help Sam up but Sam scrambled back away from him.

"Don't touch me," Sam spat out. He cradled his cheek while pinning Dean with an accusing glare.

"Dude, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." Dean wasn't accustomed to being on the receiving end of such hostility from Sam. He'd always been fortunate in that Sam had seemed to save that for their father.

Dean stood up which seemed to upset Sam further. When Sam cringed away from him Dean felt his temper beginning to loosen. He'd always had Sam's best interest at heart and now his little brother was acting like he beat him daily.

"Oh for God's sake, you're such a little drama queen. I just want to make sure you're okay." Dean continued to advance on Sam. Sam continued to scramble backward across the floor. He stopped abruptly when he bumped into the closed door.

Dean wasn't sure what to do. He was aggravated that Sam seemed to be afraid of him but he could tell something was off. Maybe if he backed off Sam would simmer down. But then again maybe he would hurt himself. Dean couldn't stand by and let that happen. His face settled into a frown of concentration.

Sam misinterpreted Dean's expression and made the mistake of taking the offensive. Sam sprung from a crouch extending his fist. Dean easily ducked away from it. Instead of stepping aside Dean instinctively grabbed Sam's arm and swung him around. Sam flew across the room, his trajectory stopping as he bounced off the opposite wall.

Sam flopped bonelessly onto the floor and lay motionless.

Dean slapped his hand over his mouth in horror. He'd acted instinctively. He just wanted to help Sam and now he was lying motionless on the ground and it was Dean's doing.

Dean was across the room in seconds flat, kneeling next to his brother. "Sam, I'm sorry. It was accident. Sam? Can you hear me?" Visions of spinal injuries and concussions slipped across Dean's thoughts. This couldn't be happening. He was supposed to protect his brother, not hurt him.

Dean was about to summon Bobby for help when Sam groaned. He sat himself up and leaned his back against the wall. "What happened?" Sam held his head in his hands. He peaked out between his splayed fingers and looked at a solemn Dean.

"Did I have a nightmare?"

Dean was speechless. He thought he had seriously hurt his baby brother. The brother he had sworn to protect. And now it seemed as though Sam didn't remember their skirmish.

"I think we both had a nightmare but everything's okay now. Let's get you back into the bed," Dean replied gently.

Dean extended his hand and was gratified when Sam took it. Dean pulled Sam up and led him back to the bed. Dean had no difficulty tucking Sam back into the bed. Sam even allowed Dean to check his limbs, spine and head for damage without complaint. Much to Dean's relief Sam seemed no worse for wear.

Dean sank down on Sam's bed and covered his face with his hands. He had to figure out what was wrong with his brother. The exhaustion, the confusion…this wasn't right. Sam's body had been through a lot but these weren't normal symptoms of recovery. Sam needed help.

Dean suddenly remembered that Sam had asked to use Bobby's computer. He crossed to the doorway and found Bobby on the other side, hand raised in mid knock.

"I heard a commotion. Everything okay?" Bobby's face was creased with concern.

Dean shook his head no. "I need your help. Could you please check your computer and see what Sam was searching while we were gone? He's not himself right now," Dean glanced back toward the bed and saw that Sam seemed to be sleeping peacefully again.

"Sure thing, Dean. I'll let you know what I find."

Bobby felt funny about checking up on Sam like that but he could see that something had shaken Dean. He went down the hall to the den and turned on the computer. He was amazed to see the last search Sam had made concerned sleep deprivation. He hit the link and read about the symptoms. "Dean, I think I found something." Bobby's voice floated over to where Dean was standing watch over his brother.

Bobby came to the door and filled in Dean. Sleep deprivation didn't make sense to Dean. How could someone who slept as much as Sam suffer from sleep deprivation? He felt he had to follow up on this since it was the only clue he had right now. He decided he would call Dr. Jackson and get his opinion. Dean had a lot of respect for the man. He seemed not only knowledgeable but had also cared about Sam. Dean couldn't wait for the sun to come up. He wanted to get Sam some help as soon as possible.


	6. Chapter 6

Summary: The brothers are on their way to Bobby's so Dean can help out with a job. Sam is still weak from his stay in the hospital – blood poisoning as a result of a run in with Gordon and holy water as well as kidney complications from the car accident that put Dean in a coma. Ane Sam is still hearing voices. Dean will need to be at the top of his game in order to save his brother.

Action takes place directly after _They're Here_ (post ELAC and Bloodlust) but you don't have to read that story first.

A/N: Faye Dartmouth did a fabulous beta on this chapter. Thanks.

Chapter 6

Sam's slide down the wall continued to haunt Dean. He couldn't believe he'd almost hurt his little brother like that. But that was just one thing weighing on Dean's thoughts. Sam's behavior the last couple of days was over the top and Dean needed to get him some help. Fast.

Dean had called Dr. Jackson, leaving a message for him, and within the hour Dr. Jackson had called back. When Dean explained some of Sam's symptoms and revealed the internet findings, he was shocked when Dr. Jackson agreed. Dr. Jackson wanted Dean to take Sam in for a full battery of tests to rule out other problems but he also believed Sam could be suffering from a sleep disorder.

Dr. Jackson offered to arrange a consult with someone close to Bobby's place and Dean didn't hesitate to take him up on it. After doing a little checking, Dr. Jackson called back. He had been successful in setting up an appointment with a Dr. Osmond at the Mercy Sleep Clinic which was located thirty minutes from Bobby's house. Dr. Jackson was deeply concerned about Sam and wanted him to be seen as soon as possible. He explained to Dean that the Mercy Sleep Clinic was attached to a teaching hospital so Sam would be able to get whatever treatment he required.

Unfortunately Sam had refused to cooperate.

That conversation had ended abruptly. "No friggin way, Dean. I'm not seeing another doctor," Sam said as he crossed his arms defiantly. Last night Sam had read about sleep deprivation and thought he needed help, but this morning Dean was just a little too adamant about it. Like he wanted to get rid of Sam. Sam knew he was a pain in his brother's ass and Dean was probably eager to leave him in his dust. Like everyone always left him.

But, wait, that wasn't right. Dean would never do that to him. He felt so confused. But he knew he didn't want to see another doctor right now.

"Sam, it's your decision. I'm not going to make you go," Dean reasoned with his brother, trying to placate him. Sam was starting to exhibit some paranoia and Dean was afraid to push him too far.

Awkward silence filled the room. Dean cleared his throat, "I'm going to run some errands. I should be back in a couple of hours. Just take it easy and let Bobby know if you need anything." Dean was going to keep the appointment with Dr. Osmond himself. He hoped he could get enough information to make his case to Sam. He knew if he could just explain the facts and research he'd be able to reach his brother. After all, facts and research ruled his brother's life.

"Bobby, could I see you for a minute?" Dean asked as his eyes slid over his brother one more time. Something was definitely wrong. But was it physical or mental?

Bobby followed Dean into the kitchen while Sam ignored them from the living room couch. "What's up? You're going to keep that appointment, aren't you?" Bobby asked. He was just as concerned as Dean at this point. Sam may have always had a stubborn streak but something was out of whack with the boy. Even Bobby could see it.

"Yeah, I'm heading into town. But I'm worried about him. I don't think he's eating or drinking enough. While I'm gone do you think you could get him to at least drink something?" Dean asked hesitantly. He was used to taking care of Sam and wasn't eager to hand over the reins.

"Well, I've got some Kool-Aid squirreled away in the cupboard. If my memory serves me right, Sam always did have a sweet tooth. I'll see if he'll drink some of that," Bobby said. He wasn't used to caring for the sick but he was willing to give it a shot.

"Will you be alright with him while I'm gone," Dean asked with an uneasy air. He didn't want to leave Sam but he didn't see any other choice. Not if he was going to get him some help.

Bobby scoffed at Dean's concern, "Don't worry. How much trouble can he get into while you're gone? I've got it covered," Bobby tried to ally Dean's fears.

"Thanks, Bobby. I owe you," Dean replied. He knew he could trust Bobby. With their lives if it came to that.

"I'll just put it on your tab. Now you'd better get going before you miss the appointment," Bobby said as he clapped a hand on Dean's shoulder.

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Dean found himself in Dr. Osmond's office. He was a nondescript man and there was nothing memorable about him. Dean hadn't been impressed on first blush but the longer he listened to Dr. Osmond the more convinced he became that Sam needed treatment, if not from him then by someone else.

"Sleep deprivation can be a very serious condition with very serious consequences. I think we need to rule out whether your brother has an underlying condition that needs to be treated," Dr. Osmond explained. "If there is no underlying condition then I would recommend that you admit him here at the Sleep Clinic for a week of observation. We need to monitor Sam's sleep patterns to figure out the best way to proceed with his treatment."

"There's no way Sam would agree to a week. This isn't going to work," Dean practically growled in frustration. He'd begun to think that Dr. Osmond could help Sam but there was no way Sam would agree to a week in a clinic. Sam was slipping away from him and Dean was grasping at straws.

Dr. Osmond shifted back and steepled his hands in thought. "I understand your concern. I'm just outlining the course of treatment that I think might work for your brother but there's really no sense in discussing it further until you have him evaluated for other conditions. If he's cleared next door then we could talk about treatment options," Dr. Osmond reasoned.

Dean couldn't argue with his rationale but something was still nagging him about Dr. Osmond. He seemed too perfect. Like the image of what a doctor should be instead of what they were like in reality.

"So you're saying that Sam should be evaluated at the hospital and he'd only come to you for treatment if they can't find something else wrong? I thought you would be trying to persuade me that you're the only one who can help Sam." Dr. Osmond wasn't like any other doctor he'd ever met. They all, even Dr. Jackson, seemed to suffer from a God complex. They always thought they could fix everything.

"Dean, I'm not a used car salesman trying to talk you into a purchase. Dr. Jackson asked me to see your brother because he thought I could help. But if you don't think your brother and I could work together then we'll find someone else. You're his brother, Dean, and I can see that he means everything to you. I respect that. And I respect that you're here to try to help him. I want you to feel good about this too—for both your sakes." Dr. Osmond sat back, crossing his legs, and waited for further questions.

Dean exhaled the pent up air he'd been holding in. "Thank you for seeing me Dr. Osmond. I need to talk to my brother before we do anything else," Dean said as he stood up and shook hands with the doctor.

"You're quite welcome. But please, try not to delay too much longer. From what you've said Sam needs some sort of help and the sooner the better."

Dean nodded before slipping out the door. Maybe, just maybe, Dr. Osmond could help his brother get better. That's all he wanted. To get Sam back again.

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Dr. Osmond's eyes glowed yellow as Dean Winchester exited the office. He had told John Winchester that his sons were of little threat to him but of course that had been a lie. He needed to get Sam under his control quickly. It was almost a shame because he really liked the gentle, soulful young man. But he would need Sam to execute his grand plan.

Shifting back he laced his hands behind his head and smiled.

The Demon was known by many names. AEshma-daeva, Asmodeus, Ashmadia. Asher for short. That's why he'd taken such pleasure in using that boy, Ash, at the Roadhouse. There was a certain symmetry in Asher working through Ash even if he'd been unable to completely control the Roadhouse geek.

Asher had a little bit of fun with the Winchester brothers while they were staying at that trashy little bar. He had pushed and manipulated Sam through his dreams so that he thought Dean was trying to hurt him. Unfortunately as Sam recovered from his physical wounds he wouldn't give in to his manipulations. Sam wouldn't believe Dean would hurt him and the two had drifted back together.

John Winchester had insisted to his boys that the family together was a liability; evil could easily use their love for one another to break them. Asher knew this was untrue – together the brothers were a force to be reckoned with and he needed to break them apart. Dean kept Sam grounded in reality, protected and well loved. Asher hadn't found a way to remove the obstacle.

Unfortunately when John traded his life for Dean's the option of wasting Dean was off of the table. It was just one of those silly metaphysical rules that couldn't be broken. The Demon was forced to come up with more creative ways to neutralize Dean and isolate Sam.

Asher thought he had succeeded for a while when Sam and Dean were at the Roadhouse. Dean for his part had been shamelessly manipulated by Ellen and that insipid daughter of hers. Asher had used Ellen and Jo for his own machinations for years. And this time he had almost gotten his hands on the big prize.

Asher leaned forward as he contemplated his earlier bid to claim Sam. He'd almost succeeded in driving a wedge between the brothers by forcing Dean's jealousy over Sam into the open, primarily through the thoughtful actions of Ash. The real kicker was that Ash had rebelled against the Demon's efforts to control him and had largely acted on his own. Sometimes, but not often, things unfolded to his liking without his intervention.

Asher sat back in the chair and put his feet on the desk. He pulled a cigar out of his suit pocket and sniffed it with appreciation. What he wouldn't give to light it in celebration.

Patience. It looked like his latest plan was working. Whenever Sam drifted off to sleep Asher and his minions forced him to reenact traumatic memories from his past as if he were experiencing them for the first time. Sam had no memory of these dreams but woke up exhausted. Without a proper sleep cycle Sam was beginning to suffer both physical and mental symptoms. Sleep deprivation wasn't pretty but it had all but guaranteed that Dean would be delivering his beloved baby brother to Asher, doing business as Dr. Osmond, for his special "therapy."

"Yes, Sammy, we're here. Me and my loyal subjects. Waiting to help you..."

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Dean left the sleep clinic shaking his head. Dr. Osmond had proposed that Sam be admitted for a week of observation. Right now it was the only option Dean had found that might help Sam. But Sam's grip on reality seemed so iffy right now that Dean was afraid Sam wouldn't consent to being admitted for treatment.

But the first step was just getting him to allow a regular doctor to check him over.

Dean headed the Impala back toward Bobby's. He had to think up a suitable excuse for bringing Sam to the city and to the hospital for a check up. He would really have to get creative to bypass Sam's distrust of him. And Sam's distrust really bothered Dean. Sam had always treated Dean like he could fix everything. That his trust in Dean was unshakeable.

But right now Sam distrusted everyone, Dean included. That had become apparent when Dean had been trying to talk Sam into going to the consult. Not only was Sam looking at Dean with suspicion but Sam had even said something about mistrusting Dr. Jackson's motives.

Dean pulled out his cell phone and dialed Bobby's number. "Hey Bobby. How's Sam doing?" Dean was about fifteen minutes out from Bobby's and needed to formulate a plan. Sam's current state would dictate his approach.

Dean couldn't say he was too surprised when Bobby growled, "I'd love to shoot him and put him out of his misery. He was raging one minute and curled up in a ball sobbing the next. What the hell am I supposed to do with him?"

Although he wasn't surprised by Sam's actions Dean felt his heart sink. "I'll be there soon and I'll take it from there." Resignation colored his words.

"Christ on a crutch. He's doing that little hiccup sob thing again. You know, the one where he can't catch his breath. How do you stand it? I feel like I should be getting him to calm down but the last time I tried that he came up swinging. Great, now he's crawling for the door, whimpering. You need to get back here now. I can't deal with this by myself." Bobby, the original man of few words, was practically sobbing himself. Dean's little brother was really giving him a run for his money.

"Okay, I think I have an idea. Dump some of that PM Tylenol I saw in the bathroom into that Kool-Aid and give it to Sam. That should buy us some time." It was the best idea he could offer until he reached them.

"I'll do it. But get your ass back here now Dean. I can't take much more of this." Bobby disconnected the call abruptly.

Dean dragged a hand across his face. He really couldn't blame the usually stoic Bobby for being at his wit's end. Dean felt the fear and uncertainty of the last few days catching up with him, too. He just wanted his brother back. Preferably sane.

It was apparent that Sam was becoming increasingly more paranoid. Dean was running out of options. Sam was his first priority. He would do whatever he needed to get Sam the help he so desperately needed. Even if that meant betraying Sam's trust. He only hoped Sam would forgive him.


	7. Chapter 7

Summary: The brothers are on their way to Bobby's so Dean can lend him a hand with a hunt. Sam is still weak from his stay in the hospital – blood poisoning as a result of a run in with Gordon and holy water as well as kidney complications from the car accident that put Dean in a coma – and he's still hearing voices. Dean will need to be at the top of his game in order to save his brother.

Action takes place directly after _They're Here_ (post ELAC and Bloodlust) but you don't have to read that story first.

A/N: Thank you again to Faye Dartmouth for the beta on this fic.

I'd also like to thank everyone who has read, and particularly reviewed, this fic. A special thanks to the reviewers I can't contact directly -- Freefall, Fendy, and coldsunshin -- for their support.

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Chapter 7

Dean rolled up in front of Bobby's house and put his head down on the steering wheel. He was trying to gather himself for the upcoming battle. Once Sam was set against something he dug both heels in and wouldn't give. As tired as Dean was himself he knew he needed to get Sam help right away.

"Screw it, Sam. You need help," Dean said as he got out of the Impala. As far as pep talks go it was pretty lame but the longer he stalled the harder it was going to be to confront his brother. He just knew Sam was going to turn those Bambi eyes of his on Dean and he couldn't afford to crumble.

Dean was so ready for a fight that the utter quietness of the house surprised him.

"Bobby?" Dean called. He turned his head and saw Sam bundled up in a blanket lying on the living room couch. For once Sam wasn't asleep but his face was slack and he didn't acknowledge Dean as he entered the room.

Bobby softly entered the room behind Dean. "Your Kool-aide idea was a stroke of genius. He's been pretty subdued since he drank it down." Bobby winced as he touched the left side of his jaw. "He's got a pretty mean right hook for someone in his condition."

Dean glanced at Bobby with concern. It was then that the total disarray of the living room hit him. The table was knocked over as was another chair, there were papers and magazines strewn across the floor and a broken lamp in the corner.

"Jesus, Bobby. Did Sam do all of this?" Dean asked. He couldn't believe that Sam had wrought so much damage in such a short time.

"Yeah, Sam attacked everything in his way--he couldn't tell friend from foe," Bobby explained.

"Are you both okay?" Dean asked as he took in the damage once again.

"Everything will be fine as long as you get him some help. How he's been acting, it's just not natural." Bobby felt as exhausted as Dean looked. Wrestling with the baby Winchester had taken a lot out of him. "Do you want some help loading him into the car?"

"Sure, Bobby. Thanks." Dean turned his attention from Bobby to the task at hand. Taking a deep breath Dean cautiously approached Sam, not sure what kind of reception he would receive. Sam still hadn't acknowledged that others were in the room with him.

Dean took in the sheen of tears lurking in Sam's eyes. He was entirely limp and boneless on the couch. Even his hair was lying flat and lackluster against his head.

"Hey, Sam. I heard you had a tough day." Dean wanted to tell Sam he was going to take him to the hospital because earlier he'd said it was Sam's decision. But after seeing the results of Sam's tantrum he couldn't afford to do that.

Dean pulled Sam's long legs off of the couch and pulled him into a sitting position. Sam didn't resist so Dean decided to push his luck. He pulled Sam's right arm over his neck and hooked his own left arm around Sam's waist. In one smooth motion he had Sam on his feet. Dean didn't doubt that if he stepped back Sam would dissolve in a heap on the floor but right now it seemed as though he'd be able to get Sam to the car without much trouble.

"I've got the doors," Bobby murmured. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"Nah, that's okay Bobby. I can take it from here." Dean knew he owed Bobby a debt of gratitude for his help but right now he had his hands full. Full of Sam. And he wanted to minimize the number of people witnessing his brother in this current state. He wanted to give Sam as much privacy as the situation would allow.

Together they loaded Sam into the passenger seat. Dean had thought about putting Sam in back where he'd be more comfortable but he wanted to be able to see Sam. Especially if "Swinging Sam" made another appearance.

Dean sat back on his heels for a moment. The person sprawled in the passenger seat was not his brother. Sam was full of life, even when life kept knocking him down. Dean felt a surge of grief. Sam had to get better. He wanted his brother back.

They made the thirty minute drive in to the hospital in recprd time. Within minutes of pulling up to the ER entrance Sam was ensconced in a cubicle with several bodies attending to him. One of the nurses took a brief history from Dean about Sam and told him the doctor would be in shortly.

Dean couldn't remember the doctor's name within five minutes of the introduction. His attention was focused solely on Sam. The doctor made a thorough examination of Sam and then began firing questions at Dean. Dean watched a nurse insert a needle into the back of Sam's hand and hooked up an IV. Sam's eyes were half way open but he wasn't really in the room.

The doctor cleared his throat to get Dean's attention, "I can tell by looking at your brother that he's dehydrated. Dr. Jackson forwarded Sam's records to me. I'm going to run some tests to rule out a problem with his kidneys but based on his symptoms I would say he's suffering from severe fatigue."

Dean's chest tightened with concern. But that was why they were here, to help Sam, to make Sam better. He nodded to the doctor as he continued, "Were going to first rule out some other conditions. Once we're satisfied that he's stable I think he should be transferred next door. I hear you've already talked to Dr. Osmond about it."

Dean nodded his head in agreement. It looked like there wasn't another choice. Sam in his right mind would never have gone off on Bobby like that. If the Sleep Clinic could help him that's what they would do.

The doctor issued some orders to the nurse and rapidly exited the cubicle. The nurse quickly drew some blood and headed out the door. Dean was left alone with Sam.

Dean reached out and tugged one of Sam's hands into his own. What was happening to his brother? He'd been almost fully recovered two days ago and now here he was, lying motionless with an IV protruding from his hand. Again.

"Sam, what am I going to do with you?" Dean sighed as tried to make himself comfortable in the plastic chair. He tried to relax. He had done the right thing by bringing Sam here. Now he just needed to be patient until they sorted out what was wrong with his brother.

----------

Sam slowly became aware of his surroundings. He could hear something beeping in the background. Something was poking the back of his hand. He blinked his eyes open and found himself staring at a metal pole. He struggled to bring his eyes into focus. He finally recognized an IV pole next to his arm. At least now he knew why his hand hurt. God, he hated needles.

Sam turned his head and saw Dean. God, Dean looked like crap.

Dean's head snapped up. "Have you looked in a mirror lately?" he replied.

Sam startled at Dean's words. He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud.

"What happened? Where are we?" Sam asked as he looked around. He recognized the standard equipment of an exam room but he didn't remember the trip there.

"We're at the ER. I'll tell you what happened. You went all Jackie Chan on Bobby and busted up his living room." Dean let that sink in for a moment. "Sam, do you remember anything that happened today?"

"I remember you and Bobby leaving for the cemetery and that's about it," Sam replied. He tried to bring his right hand up to his head but the IV pulled and stopped him in his tracks. Instead he pulled his left hand up to rub his forehead. "Ever since we left Ellen's I've been a little off. Does the doctor have any ideas about what's wrong with me?"

That was the million dollar question.

"They're ruling out a kidney problem and that kind of thing. They really think you have a sleep disorder so the doctor wants to check you in to the sleep clinic next door." This time it was Dean who rubbed his forehead. "Sam, I really hope you'll give this a try. I think they can help you." Dean leaned forward so he could look into Sam's eyes.

Sam sat back a little, distrust evident on this face. "Can't they just give me some medicine or something? I'm not staying in the hospital again."

"I know you're sick of being in hospitals, Sam. But we're just talking about one week. One week to give the doctors a chance to figure out what's going on. Don't you want to get back to normal?" Dean asked, his eyes boring into Sam's. He didn't want to go against Sam's wishes but he wanted his brother back.

"And you agree with this? You think this is what's best for me?" Sam's face and voice were defeated.

"Sam, I don't know what else to do. You're really scaring me, man. Could we please just give this a try?" Dean was trying to work his older brother magic.

Sam heard the pleading, his brother's desperation, and couldn't oppose Dean any longer.

"Whatever you think Dean," Sam murmured his acquiescence.


	8. Chapter 8

Summary: The brothers are on their way to Bobby's so Dean can help with a job. Sam is still weak from his stay in the hospital – blood poisoning as a result of a run in with Gordon and holy water as well as kidney complications from the car accident that put Dean in a coma. And he's still hearing voices. Dean will need to be at the top of his game in order to save his brother.

Action takes place directly after _They're Here_ (post ELAC and Bloodlust) but you don't have to read that story first.

A/N: Faye Dartmouth's beta was instrumental in pulling this chapter together. Thank you.

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Chapter 8

Sam and Dean waited quietly in the ER. Dean was relieved that Sam had agreed to get treatment and didn't want to say anything to make Sam change his mind. Dean found himself whistling tunelessly and looking anywhere but at Sam. He did, however, have a hold of Sam's left hand

Sam was having a hard time getting around the fact that his own brother wanted him committed. Oh, that's not the word Dean had used but Sam knew that's what was going on here. He thought maybe Dean had grown tired of looking after his crazy brother and had found a way to cut him loose. But that didn't really jibe with his older brother. Dean had always gone out of his way to take care of him. Although Dean hadn't been himself since their Dad died

The doctor breezed back into the cubicle. He was clearing Sam for admission next door. Dean stood back as the nurse loaded Sam into a wheelchair. The IV bag was disconnected but the nurse explained they were going to leave the IV port in Sam's hand. Just in case.

_Just in case. _What the hell did that mean? Just in case they didn't like what he said and decided to drug him? Scratch that. If they didn't like him they'd probably just throw him in a straightjacket. It wasn't so much paranoia that was driving Sam at this point, it was bitterness. Bitterness that he was being made to get treatment when something inside of him was warning him off of it.

Sam looked at his brother, who seemed to be following easily beside the doctor. Dean didn't seem to have a problem going along with the program. Of course it was Dean's program so why would he? The bitterness in his stomach dissipated into fear. Sam really felt powerless. If he didn't watch himself he'd be blubbering soon and then they'd drug him for sure. And he didn't want Dean to see him reduced to that.

Dean watched several expressions flit across Sam's face. He didn't care for the final one that settled on Sam's features: Defeat. Sam always had an inquisitive mind and the attitude that they could find their way out of any situation. But now it looked like Sam had just given up. It was really hard seeing his brother like this. But he consoled himself that Sam would be getting the help he needed.

Dean watched as two nurses settled Sam into a private room.

"Dean, why don't you join in my office for a moment to sign Sam in? The staff will get Sam settled and then you can join him." Dr. Osmond said from behind Dean.

Dean didn't want to leave Sam but allowed himself to be ushered down the wing into Dr. Osmond's office. Dean was pretty oblivious to his surroundings as he signed the consent forms on Sam's behalf. Was he doing the right thing?

Dr. Osmond rose from behind his desk and put a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Let's go check on your brother. And remember, some of the things you might see will appear startling but please remember that we are committed to helping your brother."

Dean's forehead wrinkled in dismay as they were buzzed through a locked door. He hadn't remembered that on their way to Sam's room. He knew Sam wouldn't like being confined and he was a little worried about why a sleep clinic would need a locked unit. He shook his head. He needed to stay positive because he was sure Sam would be anything but.

They arrived at the end of a long hall where Dean found Sam sleeping again. An IV was once again hooked up to his brother. The head of Sam's bed was raised a little and Dean could see that Sam was in the standard issue institutional t-shirt. His face looked drawn and unhappy.

Dr. Osmond pulled Dean's attention back to him, "Don't worry, Dean. We just gave Sam a mild sedative. It's standard protocol upon admission. Tonight we'll begin the sleep study." The doctor had given Dean a pamphlet that explained the EEG and eye movement monitors used in the study. These tools were supposed to help pinpoint at what point in the sleep cycle Sam was being interrupted. Once this was established the treatment was easy to prescribe.

Dean was trying to listen to Dr. Osmond but his attention kept wandering toward the bed that held his brother.

"Okay, Dean. Here's the hard part. I can see that you love your brother and it's natural to be concerned about him. But in order for our treatment to be successful, you're going to have to leave Sam alone for at least 72 hours. It's for his own good," Dr. Osmond said solicitously.

Dean, who had been watching Sam, snapped his head back around to look at Dr. Osmond. "I'm sorry doc, but there's no way I can leave Sam here by himself for three days. That's just not possible." If Dean did that he knew Sam would think he'd been abandoned. Again.

Dean had agonized over being separated from Sam while he was hospitalized and Dean had been barred from visiting due to a fever. Nothing was going to keep him from Sam's side this time.

"Dean, I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news but that's exactly what you agreed to when you signed Sam's admission paper work. It's a binding legal document that I must insist be enforced. Just look at Sam. He's not a well man and I feel I must do everything in my power to help him. Now why don't you go inside and say your goodbyes." Dr. Osmond apparently took Dean's silence for compliance and left Dean to talk to a nurse down the hallway.

Dean wanted to chase him down and argue but knew it was pointless. He thought signing Sam in for this treatment was the best thing for him and now he had to go along with it. Whatever it took to make Sam better.

Dean approached the bed with apprehension and noticed Sam was starting to flinch and whimper in his sleep. Dean leaned over and took Sam's face in his hands. "You might not believe it but I'm doing this for you, Sam. Try to behave while I'm gone." Dean heaved a gusty sigh and looked around to make sure no one was watching before planting a kiss on his brother's forehead.

Dean did not like the idea of leaving Sam alone for one night never mind being asked to do it for three whole days. That was just not going to fly. He decided to leave Sam alone for twenty-four hours, max, and then he'd sneak in to check on him. He couldn't stand the thought that Sam might feel abandoned.

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Outside in the hallway the demon was discreetly observing the Winchester brothers. Sam was too drugged up to talk to Dean and Dean looked like he had just lost his best friend. Of course that's what was about to happen. Dean had been a thorn in his side for a very long time. Now he would be made to watch and suffer as Sam was driven mad. It was the most effective method for breaking Sam and turning him toward the demon.

While tapping into Sam's dreams, Asher had discovered that Sam had a phobia about straight jackets and he was going to make sure that Sam experienced everything they had to offer in that category. He had to drive Sam and Dean apart and then a vulnerable Sam would be his. He hustled on down the floor to talk to a nurse. Good help was so hard to find.

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Sam slowly surfaced from sleep to the strong feeling that something was wrong. And then he remembered. He was in a Sleep Clinic for observation. At least that's what Dean had said.

Sam felt overwhelmed. He couldn't even bring himself to open his eyes. What was the use? He was stuck here for at least seven days. He tried to look on the positive side but he just couldn't muster any optimism. He felt the urge to bolt and decided he would see what he could do about making an escape.

"Not leaving so soon, are we?" someone in a white lab coat purred from his right side. Before Sam could move, he was grabbed by the throat and his air supply was slowly cut off. Sam struggled to get leverage so he could break the hold this person had on him but he was too weak.

The man suddenly released Sam's throat and grabbed his face between his hands. "Please forgive me, I don't think we've been properly introduced. You're brother knows me as Dr. Osmond but you can call me Asher," the doctor said in a jovial, conversational tone that was at odds with his actions. His grasp was so strong Sam knew he'd have bruises in the shape of fingers dotting his face. Dean would go ballistic when he saw that. Or would he? After all Dean was the one who had signed Sam into this place. Wait, Dean would never hurt Sam. This had to just be a bad dream.

"Sam, you're not paying attention. You need to focus," Sam heard Dr. Osmond say. Or Asher. Or whatever the hell he called himself. His words were followed by a teeth rattling slap. Sam's head rocked against the side rail on his bed. He saw stars for a moment. If this was a dream, it was pretty realistic.

"Since I can't touch that pain-in-the-ass brother of yours, I'll have to content myself with having some fun with you," the crazed doctor said as he reached forward and grabbed Sam.

What a strange thing to say. Sam only had a moment to wonder why this out of control doctor couldn't touch Dean before he found himself hauled out of the bed by his upper arms. His legs were still unsteady from disuse and when they refused to hold him up the doctor shook him like a rag doll. Sam was getting dizzy from the motion but Dr. Osmond looked like a man on a mission.

Suddenly Sam was airborne. He landed on top of a tray table, table and boy tumbling harshly to the floor. Sam felt the IV on his hand rip free.

Asher reached down and once again gripped Sam by the throat. He pulled Sam to his feet and then off the floor so that his feet were dangling above the ground. Sam didn't think the doctor was tall enough or strong enough to do this. It had to be a dream. It just had to be a dream.

Sam found himself slammed back onto the bed. He heard Asher in the hallway calling for help. Soon two big orderlies were in the room, tying Sam's arms down with restraints. Sam couldn't take much more of this. His eyes drifted shut as he passed out.

"They're here, Sam. I've been trying to tell you for weeks. The demon is gunning for you and you have to stay strong." Sam heard his sweet Jessica's voice and turned his head. He could see her! She was wearing a white, flowing dress and her hair lay in loose, gleaming waves. This was what a dream was supposed to be like. Not talk of the demon but seeing the love of his life again.

Sam felt like he was cresting the top of a wave when he heard another voice. "Sam, you have to trust in your brother. He'll save you but you must have faith in him." Sam turned his head and saw his mother, Mary. She was just as beautiful as the pictures he had seen. Just as beautiful as she was in Kansas.

Sam wanted to reach out and touch his mother. Hold Jessica again. Instead a heaviness began to pull on Sam, dragging him down. "Sleep now, Sam. We'll be here if you need us." Sam didn't want to give up the dream so quickly. It wasn't fair. Unable to stop himself he drifted off for a while.

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Sam blinked his eyes open.

He realized his arms and legs were firmly tied down. He was chilled in his t-shirt and pajama bottoms, stretched out on top of the blankets. A shiver wracked his body. Sam tried to breathe deeply to stave off the impending panic attack.

He closed his eyes and tried to relax. It didn't look anyone was going to help so he'd have to think of a way to help himself.

Upon opening his eyes Sam was confronted with Asher grinning malevolently at him. His chest tightened with panic again.

"Oh, Sam, don't get too comfortable. I'll be back in a little while and I'll give you a tour of the facility. You're going to just love it," Asher said as he patted Sam on the shoulder.

Sam couldn't be sure but he thought he saw a flash of yellow. What little composure he had quickly left him as he realized he was trapped by who knows what (the voice inside of his head screamed _The Demon_) in a locked unit without a way out.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: There's a total of 12 chapters in this fic so we're entering the home stretch. I'm going to post a chapter a day, fanfiction net willing, so that we can wrap this fic up on Friday.

Also please see previous chapters for other notes.

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Chapter 9

Dean had stayed away from Mercy Sleep Clinic for exactly twenty-four hours and he was going stir crazy.

He'd decided to make his move when the night shift nursing staff came on duty. He was in the parking lot closest to the staff entrance looking for the perfect mark.

Aha! He spotted a blond man approaching the entrance.

Dean hustled over to the man. "Excuse me, could I please talk to you for a moment?" Dean didn't really have a plan and was flying by the seat of his pants. He only knew that he had to find a way in to see Sam.

Up close, Dean could see that the man was down on his luck. At least if his clothes were any indication. Threadbare scrubs and ratty tennis shoes. He was wearing a nametag that stated he was "Joe, LPN" and he was from a temp agency. Dean felt the adrenaline start to flow as he turned on the charm.

"Excuse me, Joe. I'm doing an expose on the Mercy Sleep Clinic and I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time." Dean sized up Joe and decided money would be the fastest way to accomplish his goal. "I'd like to offer you $200.00, in cash, in exchange for your uniform and nametag. I need to get inside in order to make my story accurate."

Yahtzee! Dean saw Joe's eyes light up.

"I usually only make $175 for a shift. Let me think about it for a minute. I could lose my license, you know." Joe stared at his tennis shoes, refusing to meet Dean's eyes.

Dean could see that Joe didn't especially care about his license. It looked as though he was interested in only one thing: Show me the money. But Dean wasn't judging Joe. He really needed him to go along with the scam.

"You're right, you definitely deserve more. $250.00 is all I have. It's yours. I just need you to sign a confidentiality statement so that I know you won't tell anyone else about this switch." Dean didn't have a statement for Joe to sign but he wanted to make sure he put the fear of God into him. He didn't know how long he'd need the disguise.

"No! I can't sign anything. Don't worry, I won't say anything. Come on over to my car. I've got a spare uniform you can have. And here's the nametag." Joe handed over the stuff Dean would need to get inside the building. Joe glanced over his shoulder at the building nervously. "I've never been here before. It sounded kind of creepy but I really needed the money."

Ah, the sweet smell of success. If no one knew Joe, then Dean's job just got a whole lot easier.

Joe couldn't get away fast enough now that he had the money. He was out of the parking lot in the blink of an eye. Dean didn't waste any time shrugging into the scrubs and pinning on the nametag. He opened the Impala's trunk and fished out some round wire rimmed glasses. Hopefully no one who was on duty when Dean had checked Sam into the clinic would be working this shift. The glasses and scrubs wouldn't be an effective disguise if someone had seen him before. Then again most people only saw what they expected and in this case they'd be seeing "Joe, LPN." Whatever the hell an LPN was. Dean moved toward the entrance and slid in behind two other people outfitted in scrubs. Show time.

Dean followed a man and a woman up the back stairs. "Excuse me, I'm new here. Could you please tell me where I should report to?" Dean asked the couple who were also LPNs according to their nametags. Natalie and Brian.

Brian stuck out his hand, "I'm Brian and this is Nat. Pleased to meet you. I'll be your shift supervisor tonight. Come on, let's get you signed in and I'll show you around."

Dean followed Brian and tried to blend in. He was shown the break room, nurses station, kitchen area, med. room -- all the comforts of home. That is if home was an institution. He willed Brian to finish up already. He was eager to finish orientation so he could look for Sam.

"Well you're from a temp agency so you know how this all works. Just let me know if you can't find anything, okay?" Brian said as he completed the tour.

Brian stared at Dean as if taking his measure. "Okay, here's the thing. We usually only have two LPNs scheduled for this shift but Dr. Osmond thought he would need more help tonight. You look like you can handle yourself so I'm going to assign you to observe the patient who had a meltdown earlier today. He totally went berserk and they had to put him in full restraints. He's in the padded cell down here. We have to buzz you in and out so just push the buzzer on either side and Nat will release the door. She'll be monitoring from the nurses station tonight." Brian paused to look Dean in the face. "Any questions?"

"No, no questions. Who's the lucky patient?" Dean waited for Brian's response even though he had a sneaking suspicion he already knew the answer. He never should have left Sam alone here.

"Sam something or other. I haven't seen much paper work on him but if I see something I'll let you know. He's supposed to be a big mo-fu, so watch yourself. Dr. Osmond said he's special so don't get too close and everything should be fine." Brian gave a mock salute and strode down the hall.

Dean felt his stomach drop as he heard confirmation that Sam was the patient behind the locked door. Dean approached the door with apprehension and hit the buzzer. He heard a click and pulled on the door handle. Taking a deep breath he entered the locked cell. _Sammy, what have you gone and done now?_

_----------_

Dean hit the buzzer next to the door and waited for it to snick open.

From across the room he got his first glimpse of Sam and it was heartbreaking.

Sam was curled up in a corner of the padded cell, cinched into a straight jacket. He was leaning up against the wall, knees bent and to one side with his head hanging down onto his chest. Dean couldn't see his face. He didn't know whether he was asleep or awake.

Dean crossed the room and cautiously approached Sam, afraid to startle him. _What the hell had Sammy done to end up in a straight jacket?_

"Sammy?" Dean whispered gently as he crouched down next to his brother. He couldn't tell if Sam heard him or not. He had to figure out Sam's state of mind and then he would know what to do. Dean was trying to keep an open mind about why Sam was in a straight jacket. Maybe he had done some damage to person and property. But no one treated his little brother like this. No one.

Dean squinted up at the bright lights flooding the padded cell. The lights would be playing havoc with Sam's sensitive head. Hell, besides having sore muscles from being strapped into the jacket, he probably had a migraine. Mindful of Sam's delicate state, Dean said his name softly again. Reaching out he stopped himself just short of touching Sam. He didn't want to startle him.

"Sam, it's Dean. I'm here." Dean's voice broke. Truth be told he was frightened by Sam's posture and lack of response. What if he'd had a break with reality? Dean was afraid for Sam's sanity. He'd quickly deteriorated since they'd arrived at Bobby's and Dean thought the sleep clinic was his best shot. Now he didn't know what to think.

With a deep breath, Dean collected himself before cautiously touching Sam's shoulder.

Sam didn't respond at all.

Without releasing his grip on Sam's shoulder Dean reached around and carefully grasped his other shoulder. Sam still didn't move. His head was still down on his chest.

Frustrated that he couldn't see Sam's face Dean tugged on Sam's shoulders until he was facing forward. Dean tried to move Sam into a more comfortable position but with the straight jacket that wasn't really possible. Dean released his grip on Sam's shoulders and put his right hand underneath Sam's chin, slowly raising it.

Dean gasped at what he saw.

Sam's bottom lip was split open. The skin around his left eye was rapidly bruising and both eyes, tightly closed, were puffy. Blood was lazily leaking out of both of Sam's nostrils. Dean tilted Sam's face to the side and could see a gash on his left temple, the skin red and mottled, seeping more blood.

Dean shook his head in disbelief. Disbelief turned to anger as he noted the deep purple bruises on each side of Sam's jaw in the shape of finger prints. Someone had gripped Sam's face so tightly they had bruised him like a piece of fresh fruit. That wasn't an accident. Someone had tried to hurt his Sammy.

"Aw, kiddo. I'm so sorry. You've got to believe me. I never would have brought you here if I thought this would happen." Dean felt a deep profound guilt warring with his anger. He might not have beaten on his brother but he had made it possible for strangers to do so. What kind of clinic was this anyway?

Sam's whole body was stiff in Dean's arms. The straight jacket barely left enough room for Sam to breath. The first order of business was to get Sam out of the contraption.

"Sam, I'm going to be as gentle as possible. Please don't wake up until I'm done. I don't want to hurt you any more than I already have," Dean said more to himself since his brother was still unconscious.

Dean tilted Sam forward against his chest so he could reach around behind Sam and begin undoing the buckles at his back. Each arm was uncomfortably stretched forward and around his torso and belted in the back. The jacket was so restrictive Dean hoped Sam hadn't dislocated his shoulder joints.

Dean vowed that whoever was responsible would pay for this. Starting with Dr. Osmond. Even if he hadn't personally done this to Sam it was his responsibility to take care of Sam and maintain his safety.

Dean finally had all of the buckles undone and started peeling the jacket away from Sam's body. Sam still showed no signs of waking up. Dean gently laid Sam on his back so he could check him for injuries. The bones in his legs seemed to be okay as did his hips. He had deep red marks on each arm but only his right one showed visible damage. Dean could see Sam's hand was a mess where the IV appeared to have been ripped out and his right wrist was swollen and distended.

Dean was concerned that the surgical site was red and swollen where Sam's internal injuries had been repaired during his last hospital stay. The straight jacket had rubbed a raw spot right over that area. Hopefully infection wouldn't set in. Sam's body could withstand another infection right now.

Dean took in the bruising around Sam's neck and upper arms. Sam was a mess.

Dean noticed some blood trickling out of Sam's left ear. He knew Sam had at the least suffered a concussion but now he was concerned Sam was hemorrhaging from his brain. Brain injuries were tricky. Dean should know. He'd suffered some type of head injury almost annually since he had joined his dad in hunting. Not to mention his most recent run in with a semi that had left him in a coma. Yeah, head injuries were tricky.

The shock of finding Sam in this condition was starting to fade. Dean pushed back the anger and concentrated on how he would get Sam out. Lugging his taller brother out of a locked ward would NOT be easy.

Dean gently cupped Sam's left cheek and called to him again, "Come on Sammy, you've got to give me a sign here. Don't make me do a sternum rub on you. You know those hurt like a bitch." Dean watched Sam's face closely. Did his right eye just twitch? Dean held his breath as he waited to see if Sam would come around on his own.

Sam's right eye sprung open as he sensed someone leaning over him. He began to keen and rock backward away from whoever was in the room with him. His breathes came out in great gasps as he tried to get away from the unseen presence. His body battered and broken, Sam could only flop onto his back and shiver.

"Sam? It's me Dean. I'm going to get you out of here." Dean reached forward but Sam was having none of it. Instead he tried to curl within himself.

In a horse, broken voice, Sam called out, "No. Leave me alone." Sam was so miserable he didn't realize Dean was trying to help him. Or that it was Dean in the padded cell with him.

"Shhh. Sam, it's Dean. I don't want them to hear us." Dean grabbed Sam's uninjured left hand and gave it a brief squeeze.

Sam stopped struggling and tried to look at Dean. Mary had told Sam he needed to have faith in his brother. But what if this was the Demon playing with him and not Dean?

"You're not Dean, you're Asher. Go to hell." Sam delivered this with as much energy as he could. His voice was husky and fading fast. "Don't touch me."

Dean was confused that Sam thought he was Asher. Who was Asher? Maybe he meant Ash. How did Ash play into this? Was Sam's head injury making him see things that weren't there?

"Sam, come on, it's me. Dean." Dean wanted to pull Sam into his arms but was afraid Sam would damage himself further by struggling.

"Prove it." Sam whispered letting his right eye close. He knew he couldn't withstand the mind games much longer. Asher said Sam would soon be his and in his current condition he had a hard time doubting it. He was totally devoid of energy.

"Okay, I'll prove it. I know how you got that scar on your thigh. Remember? You wanted to pick some flowers next door and didn't realize their Rottweiler was out. It chased you across the yard and you snagged your jeans going over the fence and the Rottweiler grabbed your leg. You screamed bloody murder and dad came flying out of the house. You were about six at the time." Dean hadn't thought of this in ages and would have smiled if things weren't so desperate for Sam.

Sam felt hope for a moment but didn't want to be tricked gain by the Demon. "What did you call me after that?" Sam rasped out.

Dean didn't like the gray hue of Sam's skin. His lips seemed to have a bluish tint.

For a moment Dean's mind went blank. He didn't remember calling Sam anything after his adventure with the flowers and the Rottweiler. He'd just been so happy that Sam had been okay, barring a few stitches to his thigh, because Sam had pulled his little stunt while on Dean's watch. Then it came to him.

"Flower. I called you Flower, just like the skunk in Bambi." Dean had always likened Sam's eyes to those of Bambi, at least to himself, but had forgotten that Sam really liked that movie when he was a kid. And Sam had always had a soft spot for pretty things. He'd been such a sweet kid.

Sam's body relaxed. He reached out with his good hand and tried to grasp Dean's hand. "Dean," he breathed out. Dean felt elated. Until he realized that Sam hadn't inhaled. Sam wasn't breathing.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: And then there were three. Three chapters left that is. Thanks for all of the support. I hope you enjoy what's left of the fic.

Also please see previous chapters for other notes.

Chapter 10

Dean couldn't believe what was happening. Sam lay limp and motionless against the padded white floor. His chest wasn't moving. "No! Sam, come on. Don't quit on me now."

Dean raced over to the door and hit the buzzer. He heard the door click and hit it with his shoulder, tumbling out into the hallway. "I need some help! He's not breathing!" Dean screamed at the top of the lungs. Holding the door open with one hand Dean leaned farther out into the hallway. He could see Brian pounding across the floor and then he slid to a stop in front of Dean.

Brian took one look at Dean's face, peaked around him to see Sam lying on the floor, and knew they had a problem. "Nat! Call a Code Blue, stat! Grab the ambu kit and get your ass down here." Brian pushed past Dean and entered the padded cell.

Dean sagged with relief. He wasn't sure what was going on at the so-called Mercy Sleep Clinic but at least Brian wasn't in on it. He needed his help to save Sam.

Dean toed off a shoe and stuck it in the door. He didn't want to be at the mercy of someone else if he needed to get Sam out of there quickly. He stumbled over to where Brian knelt next to Sam. Sam's head was tilted back and Brian was gently blowing air into his mouth while pinching his nostrils shut.

"Joe, get over here. Check him for a pulse!"

Dean paused for a moment and then realized Brian was talking to him. He tried to shake off the shock. Sam needed him.

Dean knelt next to Brian and took Sam's left wrist in his hands. There. Was that a pulse? It was slow but it was there. Dean raised his head to the heavens and said a silent thank you. "He's got a pulse." Dean frowned as finished timing the beats on his watch. "40 beats per minute," he announced to Brian. Dean knew that was too slow.

Brian's face paled. "Where's fucking Natalie? Where's the code team?!" Brian sounded frantic.

Footsteps rapidly sounded down the hallway. Natalie appeared with a kit in her hands. "The code team is on the way. Here's the ambu kit. What do you need me to do?" Natalie was trying to catch her breath. During her time here she'd never experienced such an emergency.

"Inadequate ventilation," Brian said between puffing air into Sam. "Let's get the mask on him."

Dean was trying to get his own hammering heartbeat under control as he watched Brian and Natalie work on Sam.

Natalie tore open the package and handed Brian a mask. Brian tilted Sam's head forward a little and placed the mask over his mouth and nose with his right hand. Brian placed his left hand under Sam's jaw and lifted up. He began to compress the bag with his right hand.

Sam's chest began to rise in conjunction with each compression of the bag. Dean was so relieved he wanted to collapse on the floor. Sam was getting oxygen again.

"He doesn't look good. What's the pulse ox reading?" Brian, however, was still worried.

"He's at 88 and dropping." Natalie also looked very concerned, her forehead crinkled in concentration.

"Here, Joe, take over for me. I'm going to see what's taking the code team so long."

Brian grabbed Dean's right hand and placed it on the bag, squeezing twice to make sure "Joe" had the rhythm down. He then placed Dean's left hand under Sam's mandible so that the mask was tightly sealed to his face and his head was tiled for an open airway.

Everything faded into the background as he concentrated on giving Sam the lifesaving oxygen he needed. Dean had always felt responsible for Sam. Hell, to be honest, he'd been the one to raise Sam. But the last time Dean felt this responsible for Sam was when his dad had thrust the baby into his arms and told him to leave the house. The night he had carried Sam out of their burning house.

Dean focused on the bag. With each squeeze he could see Sam's chest move up and then down.

Suddenly a cart and four people spilled into the cell. Brian tumbled in after them and moved behind Dean. "Come on Joe, they'll take over now."

Dean silently remained on the floor kneeling next to Sam. He didn't want to relinquish his task. At least this way he was doing something to keep Sam alive.

Brian grabbed one arm as Natalie took the other, drawing Dean with them.

One of the newly arrived staff took over the mask. Someone else began snapping orders. "I don't think we can wait. We need to intubate him now."

Dean didn't like the look that Brian and Natalie nervously exchanged. "What are you waiting for? He's turning blue!" Dean cried out. He didn't know what was going on but even he could see Sam was in trouble. Dean stepped forward, ready to do something, anything when one of the team finally spoke up.

Dean clearly heard him say, "Salt."

Dean didn't know what was going on but in a moment he was going to start cracking skulls open. Someone needed to help Sam now. Why were they yammering on about salt?

"S for suction," someone in the room said. Dean's view was partially obscured by the code team but he could hear a suctioning sound.

"A for airway," someone else said. Dean saw one of the team, the guy who seemed to be in charge, use something to lift Sam's tongue out of the way. If this was happening to someone other than Sam he would be fascinated by the events unfolding before him. Right now he was scared spitless.

"Laryngoscope," the guy in charge said. He was the one performing the actual procedure. Dean saw a lighted instrument placed down Sam's throat.

"This is the hard part," Brian murmured. Dean flinched. What could possibly be harder than what Sam had already endured?

"Tube," a code team member said slapping a tube into the charge person's hand. Dean saw the guy move Sam's tongue to the side and slide the tube down his throat.

"Damn, I think I nicked his vocal cords." Dean didn't know what they meant but it sounded bad. He was worried because Sam's chest hadn't moved again in while. His face was a dusky blue. Dean was barely breathing himself, solely focused on Sam, watching for signs of life

"Connect the bag and begin ventilations by hand." The guy in charge placed a stethoscope over Sam's stomach and listened. "Placement sounds good. We need an x-ray to make sure. And a CAT scan. What the hell happened to this guy?"

The code team lifted Sam onto a gurney that had materialized out of nowhere. "Let's move people. He's not out of the woods yet."

Dean began to follow the group. Stumbling slightly he looked down and saw his discarded shoe. He didn't lose a beat as he scooped it up and followed Sam. He didn't want Sam out of his sight.

"That was one helluva first shift for you. I can't believe that just happened," Brian said to his co-worker 'Joe' as Dean tried to brush by him.

"Hey, Joe, where are you going?" Brian asked Dean as he grabbed his arm.

Dean shook Brian off. "I'm going with my brother," he said in a tone that brooked no argument.

Dean continued to follow Sam leaving a stunned Brian in his wake.

----------

Dean found himself hustling after Sam and his entourage. The elevator closed before he could get there so he sprinted down the stairwell. Since they'd spent some time in the ER Dean knew where to go. He burst into the ER and the girl at the front desk buzzed him into the back by the cubicles. Dean had forgotten he was wearing scrubs.

Dean glanced around looking for his brother. Suddenly the gurney bearing Sam slammed through the double doors at the other end of the ER and was guided into an empty cubicle. Dean ran to the door, mind focused on getting to his brother. But his progress was thwarted.

"Excuse, you can't go in there," a young, pretty nurse said in a bored voice.

"He's my brother, I need to see him," Dean replied, trying to push past her.

The nurse wasn't budging from her post at the door and crossed her arms before responding, "Oh, in that case we need to have you sign some consents and get some information from you."

Dean tried to look around her but all he could see were Sam's feet. Dean jerked a hand impatiently through his touseled hair. "Listen, I'm not signing anything until you tell me what's going on. What are they doing in there?" Dean wasn't sure how much he could trust these people and he felt anxious being separated from Sam. He'd left him alone once and look what had happened – beaten, thrown into a straight jacket – he wouldn't do it again. How could he protect him if he couldn't see him?

"They're hooking your brother up to a mechanical ventilation device." She turned her head and glanced into the cubicle. "They just took a portable chest x-ray and it looks like the intubation tube was placed correctly. Once he's stable they'll be running more tests and then you'll be allowed to sit with him." The nurse still wasn't giving an inch.

Dean's patience had hit its limit. He exploded, "Listen," Dean paused as he read the nametag on the nurse's scrub top, "Sheila, I'm not leaving my brother. I left him at the Sleep Clinic and now look at him!" Dean saw several heads turn and look at him. He needed to get a grip or else they'd throw him out. He couldn't watch over Sam if they threw him out of the hospital. He took a deep breath.

"Okay, so your brother was being seen at the outpatient sleep clinic. Did something happen to him in the parking lot?" Sheila realized that Dean was upset and tried to hang on to her own patience.

"What do you mean outpatient? Dr. Osmond admitted Sam to the sleep clinic yesterday." Dean watched Sheila purse her lips in thought.

"Look," Sheila paused as she saw the nametag on Dean's chest, "Joe. We just brought your brother over from the inpatient psychiatric unit. Now I don't know what's going on here but by the looks of things your brother is in very serious condition and I need you to start being straight with me."

Straight, as in straightjacket. Dean felt as though he had been gut punched. Inpatient psych unit? Sam didn't belong in a psych unit. What the hell was this chick talking about?

And then it started to dawn on him. Someone had set them up. But who?

Tremendous guilt crashed down on Dean. He had admitted his brother, albeit unknowingly, into a psych ward. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and all that. Dean knew one of Sam's secret fears was being locked up and accused of being crazy. And what had Dean done? Practically had Sam committed.

"Listen, my brother was admitted yesterday by Dr. Osmond for a sleep study. He told me I couldn't see my brother for seventy-two hours. I managed to get in to see him tonight and found him in a straight jacket, in a padded cell, with the crap beat out of him. Now you tell me what's going on." Dean folded his arms over his chest. He didn't like this. Not one little bit.

"Joe, please sign the consent forms so we can treat your brother. I don't know what happened but we'll have to figure it out later." Sheila handed Dean a clipboard and waited expectantly.

Dean took it suspiciously. This time Dean thoroughly read everything before signing it.

"Here," Dean thrust the clipboard into Sheila's hands, "I'm going to go in and see my brother now." This time Dean managed to brush by Sheila only to run into the guy who had been in charge of the code team.

"Who are you? Only family is allowed back here." Dean was once again blocked from Sam.

"I'm his brother. I need to see him. Is he okay?" Dean stepped around the guy and stopped in his tracks when he saw Sam.

Sam's face was mottled with deep bruises. A tube was taped to his mouth and Dean could hear the swish of the ventilator. Dean moved closer to the gurney so he could catalog Sam's injuries. Split swollen lip, barely visible around the tube. Left black eye. White gauze taped to the left temple. Bruises up and down both arms as well as the neck. The right hand and arm were heavily bandaged.

Despite the injuries, Dean had never seen a more beautiful sight in his life. Sam was a complete mess but he was alive.

Now that the doctor knew Dean was family he mellowed a bit. "I'm Dr. Larsen. I'm a trauma doctor on staff. We're going to take him for a CAT scan and then take him up to the intensive care unit. We're very concerned about his head injury."

"What about the ventilator? How long will he have to be on it?" Dean had so many questions he didn't know where to start.

"He's not able to breathe on his own right now and we don't know if the head injury has something to do with that or if there are some internal injuries. It also looks like he has an infection on his surgical site." Dr. Larsen looked to Dean as if for an explanation.

"Sam was in a bad car accident a while ago. He had internal injuries and his right kidney isn't functioning right now. He also had an infection that started in his arm." Dean wiped a hand shakily across his forehead. He didn't want to tear his eyes away from Sam yet it hurt to look at him.

"We'll need to get those records," Dr. Larsen said as he, too, turned to look at Sam. "We think he has a broken wrist and it looks like his IV was torn out of the back of his hand. That did some damage but it should heal." Dr. Larsen shook his head, not believing that the young man before him was still alive. "We're doing everything we can for him. It looks like we're ready to move him."

Dean took Sam's left hand in his own. "Is it okay if I stay with him?" He didn't want to leave Sam's side.

"Sure. Come on." Dr. Larsen himself helped guide Sam's gurney out the door and down the hallway.

"By the way, nice job with the mask. You probably saved your brother's life," Dr. Larsen said.

Dean sure hoped so. He'd already lost his father. He wasn't about to lose Sam.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Same as previous chapters. Thanks for reading!

----------

Chapter 11

Dean stayed with Sam as they scanned him and then settled him into the ICU. As long as he stayed out of the way he could remain with Sam. He stood back in the corner as monitors were attached to Sam.

After what seemed like hours but was only minutes Dr. Larsen entered the cubicle. "Your brother has a severe concussion but no bleeding at this time. We'll be calling in a neurologist. We saw evidence of past concussions, scar tissue and the like. I'll be shocked if he doesn't have Post Concussive Syndrome."

Dean could only shake his head. He knew about Post Concussive Syndrome. Sam had just started getting over the infection and kidney surgery and now he could be faced with another hurdle.

"There appear to be no internal injuries. He has some bruised and cracked ribs but as you know there's not much we can do for those except let them heal and help control the pain. Oh, he has a comminuted distal radius fracture. He might need surgery to set it but we'll wait and see. Right now we'd like to work on weaning him off of the ventilator." Dr. Larsen was a little more optimistic now that he knew what he was dealing with here.

Dr. Larsen briefly put his hand on Dean's shoulder, "Hey, it may be an uphill battle but I think your brother can beat this. Why don't you go down to the cafeteria and get something to eat? It's going to be a long night."

"Nah, I'm good. I'm not leaving Sam," Dean stated. _Ever_, he added to himself. He couldn't believe how careless he'd been with the most important person in his life.

----------

The next twenty four hours flew by in a blur for Dean. He was by Sam's bedside for almost every minute and when the staff kicked him out, insisting he needed a break, Bobby sat with Sam.

The ventilator had just been successfully removed and Sam was once again breathing on his own. He was even starting to show signs of waking up. Once or twice Dean had seen Sam scrunch his face up like he was on the verge of opening his eyes.

This time was the real deal. Sam's eyelashes fluttered. Dean found himself staring into a pair of very confused eyes. Without thinking twice Dean grabbed the call button and depressed it.

"Sammy, it's okay. Relax." Dean knew Dr. Larsen still had some concerns about Sam's head injury and he didn't like the way Sam's eyes were darting around. "Sam, it's me. Dean. Can you tell me what's wrong?" Dean leaned forward and took Sam's unhindered hand in his own.

After a moment Sam seemed to settle down and relax. Dr. Larsen strode into the room and noticed Sam was awake.

"Hello there, young man. It's nice to see you awake. I'm Dr. Larsen. Can you tell me how you're feeling?" It sounded as though Dr. Larsen was making small talk but he was focused on Sam, trying to gauge his alertness.

Sam opened his mouth and emitted a barely audible sound. Sam gathered himself for a moment and tried again. If Dean concentrated closely he thought he could hear Sam saying "I'm fine." That was obviously a lie but Dean was still surprised by Sam's voice; it didn't even qualify as a whisper it was so broken and ragged.

Sam pulled his hand out of Dean's and held it up to his throat. His face crinkled up and for a moment Dean was afraid his brother was going to cry. Winchesters didn't like overt shows of emotion and Dean felt uncomfortable on Sam's behalf. Then he realized that Sam was trying to talk yet couldn't make himself heard.

Dr. Larsen stepped closer to the bed and lightly touched Sam's shoulder. "It's okay. Don't try to talk. I think your vocal cords are bruised and we just need to give them a rest." Dr. Larsen shot Dean a look but didn't elaborate.

"Sam, I need you to just relax while I check out your pupils." Dr. Larsen shined a penlight in each of Sam's eyes. It seemed to Dean as though the doctor didn't like something he saw and so he did it again. Apparently Sam wasn't feeling up to it as he scrunched his eyes shut and turned his head away from Dr. Larsen.

"I'm sorry about that, Sam. You have a head injury and your pupils are a little slow to react. I'm going to have the nurse give you something for the pain, okay?"

Sam kept his eyes firmly closed and nodded his head once.

"Sam, before I leave you alone I'd like you to grab my hand and squeeze. Harder? Okay, relax. That was very good. I'm going to step outside and talk to the staff for a moment." Dr. Larsen turned and left the cubicle, a look of concern on his face.

Dean stood up and leaned over Sam. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."

Sam cracked open his right eye, red but unblackened, and glared at Dean. Dean looked at Sam, really looked at him, and got the message Sam was trying to convey --_Don't go anywhere...Dean, you're such a comedian. _

Dean's face broke into a grin and he patted Sam's shoulder gently before following Dr. Larsen out of the room, a slight spring in his step.

Sam was breathing on his own, he was awake and he was criticizing Dean's choice of phrases. He wasn't talking yet but he had conveyed his response with body language just as well as he would have with words. Sam was back.

Dean stood next to Dr. Larsen and waited for him to finish speaking to the Critical Care nurses. Dr. Larsen surprised Dean when he turned to him and asked, "How does your brother seem to you?"

Dean wasn't accustomed to doctors asking his opinion.

Dean had to tamp down hard on the snarky, smart-assed comment that sprang to his lips. This was serious business. "I was a little concerned that he wasn't all there until I was leaving the room - I said something that Sam didn't think was funny and he made sure I knew it."

Dr. Larsen still looked concerned but nodded his head and said, "That's good to know." He reached up and scratched the side of his nose.

Uh oh. The classic tell. Dean wasn't going to like what followed next.

"Sam's pupils reacted a bit sluggishly to the light. We're going to keep monitoring him closely to make sure he doesn't have a bleed. I also didn't like the grasp of his left hand. We need to rule out neurological damage." Dr. Larsen paused before continuing, "And I'm afraid that Sam has granulomas."

Dean didn't have a clue as to what granulomas were but he was supposed to be a nurse. Most of this medical jargon flew over his head. He still nodded his head at Dr. Larsen. Hopefully he'd catch on as the doctor kept talking.

"You'll probably recall from your studies," Dean silently snickered to himself as the doctor mentioned that, "that this can be a side effect from intubation. The main symptoms are a husky voice and pain. We'll try inhaled steroids and voice therapy to get those vocal cords working correctly again." Dr. Larsen indicated that Dean had the floor.

"So you're saying that Sam can't talk and his right hand is out of commission. How is he supposed to communicate?" Dean knew he should be pleased with the fact that Sam was alive but he knew this would be a huge problem for his brother.

Dean remembered when his brother was just a little guy. Sam could toddle about but he still didn't talk. Dean kept badgering his dad about when Sam would talk. "I want Sammy to talk, when will he start talking, Dad?" Dean could tell, even at that young age, that his dad was concerned, too. And then one day Sam magically began talking. And the joke was on Dean. From that moment forward it seemed as though Sam never shut up.

"Try not to worry about that right now, Joe." Dean still forgot sometimes that the staff knew him as Joe and not Dean. "We have a top notch speech therapist who will work with your brother. She'll also be able to help us figure out if he's cognitively intact or if he has some deficits."

Dean was taken aback for a moment. In his mind Sam was already well on the road to recovery and yet here the doctor was worrying about his head

Dean was so deep in thought he didn't notice when Dr. Larsen left his side to arrange for more tests and consults. Dean was trying to weather the storm of his emotions. He blamed himself for leaving Sam alone at the Sleep Clinic. Or should he say Psych Unit. And for taking Sam away from the Roadhouse where he'd finally started to heal from his wounds. He might as well throw in going to Stanford to ask for Sam's help in finding their father because Sam's life hadn't been the same since that moment.

He'd only wanted to protect Sam, keep him safe, and now he began to second guess himself. Maybe Sam would be better off without him.

Dean shook off that thought and pushed back into Sam's room. Sam needed him.

----------

It had been three days and Sam was finally being moved out of the ICU and into a private room. Dean sighed impatiently. Sam was on the mend and the hospital was footing the bill for Sam's stay since he had been hurt so badly while admitted to the Psychiatric Unit. He should have felt more optimistic but in the land of Winchester that usually meant the other shoe was about to drop.

While he was waiting for Sam to be transferred to his new room, Dean reviewed what he knew about Dr. Osmond. Something had been bothering Dean for days now but he had been so involved with Sam's medical care that he hadn't been able to look into it. Dr. Osmond had lead Dean to believe that his brother was being admitted to an inpatient Sleep Clinic when in fact it was a Psych Unit.

Unfortunately Dean hadn't been able to talk to Dr. Osmond. According to staff, the nationally renowned sleep study doctor had unexpectedly been called out of town on a family emergency the night Dean had snuck in and found Sam in a padded cell. _Coincidence? I think not. _He was itching to find the good doctor but until he knew Sam was able to defend himself he refused to leave his brother's side.

The one bright spot in this whole mess was that Sam hadn't contracted another infection. He was on an oral antibiotic as a preventative and it seemed to be doing the trick. His right kidney still wasn't functioning but the left one was working perfectly well. That helped make up for the head injury, vocal cord damage, and broken arm.

And he no longer seemed to be suffering the effects of sleep deprivation. The paranoia seemed to be gone and although he slept a lot that was to be expected with the concussion.

Dean couldn't believe how resilient Sam was under the circumstances. Sam was supposed to be resting his vocal cords and his right arm was in a cast so the hospital had provided a laptop computer for Sam's use. In the last day or so Sam had become fairly efficient at typing with one hand.

Dean pushed away from the wall as the gurney bearing his brother made its way down the hall. Dean noted that two pretty nurses were guiding the gurney and they appeared to be in competition with each other to make Sam smile. Sam's eyes were open and his posture was relaxed – the nurses must have given him something for the pain before moving him.

As they were transferring Sam onto his bed, one of the nurses flashed a smile at Dean. "Is he always this talkative?" she asked before giggling.

Dean was saved from a response when Dr. Larsen entered the room. "How's our favorite patient doing today?" he said while picking up Sam's chart from the foot of the bed. Dr. Larsen had become quite fond of both Winchester brothers while treating Sam.

"Your vitals look good today. Do you still have a headache?" the doctor asked as he looked up to see Sam shake his head no. "That's good. You were given a shot of Demerol a short while ago and it appears to be working well for you," he said as he noted Sam's somewhat glazed expression.

"Okay, then. These ladies are going to get you comfortable in your new room. Your body is healing at an amazing rate – all my patients should be so lucky – so we should be able to release you in a couple of days," Dr. Larsen explained.

A slow smile spread across Sam's face. If he never saw the inside of a hospital again it would be too soon.

Dean, on the other hand, was worried. Sam still couldn't talk, he was having world class headaches associated with the Post Concussive Syndrome, and he still couldn't remember anything that had happened since they left the Roadhouse.

"Whoa, there, doc. Don't you think you're rushing things a little? Sam can't even feed himself yet," Dean said as he glanced between patient and doctor.

Sam and Dr. Larsen frowned in unison. Neither one seemed particularly pleased to hear of Dean's doubts on the subject.

"Believe me, if Sam continues on this pace of recovery you'll be able to take him home before you know it. Of course he'll need help with his activities of daily living for a while but I'm sure we can arrange someone to assist you if you can't handle it yourself," Dr. Larsen answered while staring down Dean.

"Fair enough," Dean agreed with a shrug. "I just want what's best for Sam."

Dr. Larsen, having witnessed Dean's dedication to his brother firsthand, believed him completely and let the subject drop. "I'll be back in the morning to check on Sam's progress. Have the staff page me if you have any questions or concerns before then," he said to Dean before he squeezed Sam's foot and left the room.

Dean was glad his stubborn little brother had agreed to some pain medication today. The headaches were pretty much a constant at the moment and the staff offered medications to Sam but he didn't like the way they made him feel, off balance and dopey, so for the most part he opted to gut out the pain. Dean had begun to recognize the signs -- rubbing of the eyes, squinting, dizziness, confusion and when the pain was bad enough, vomiting.

Finally the nurses were done fussing and left the room. The activity of the move had worn Sam out and before long he was asleep.

Dean folded his arms and propped one booted heel on his other knee, trying to get comfortable. As much as he tried to relax, his mind wouldn't let him. His thoughts kept straying to unpleasant territory. He'd promised that nothing bad would happen to his brother while he was around but lately his being around seemed to only cause Sam pain.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Much to Dean's surprise he'd fallen asleep not long after Sam but he now felt refreshed and ready to make some plans.

"Okay, I think Dr. Osmond is the key to figuring out what's been going on with you so as soon as we can spring you I was thinking you should stay at Bobby's while I look for him," Dean explained.

Sam felt pain spike behind his right eye. Despite it he still managed to shake his head no. The head of his bed was raised and he leaned back against several pillows.

"No, you don't think Dr. Osmond is the key, or no, you don't want to go to Bobby's?" Dean asked patiently. He watched as Sam flinched as though in pain before pulling over the tray table holding the laptop computer. Squinting past the pain in his head he began slowly typing with his left hand.

Dean leaned over Sam's shoulder and read _stay together_.

Dean couldn't argue the point. "Well then maybe I could call the Roadhouse and ask Ash to see if he can find Dr. Osmond for us," Dean suggested instead.

Without warning, blinding pain flared through Sam's head. Taken by surprise he pulled both of his hands up to his face, forgetting his right arm was in a cast, and bashed himself in the cheek. His head flew backward, connecting with the head of the bed, and then he ricocheted forward, careening into Dean who had been standing next to him.

Dean's arms instinctively grabbed Sam to halt his descent.

Dean was stunned. One moment he was talking about their next step and the next Sam was bashing himself into unconsciousness.

Dean leaned forward and activated the call light while carefully cradling Sam against his side. He was afraid to move his brother in case he caused further damage.

The nurse who had asked if Sam was always so talkative entered the room, took in the scene before her with a wilted Sam held securely against Dean, and scrambled out into the hall to summon more help. More staff poured into the room and Dean soon found himself displaced.

A familiar panic bubbled up inside Dean. Not only did he have to protect Sam from the world but now he had to protect his brother from himself.

Dr. Larsen had been paged and after yet another CAT scan it was determined that Sam hadn't done further damage to his skull. He was back in his room, resting comfortably, unaware of the chaos he had caused.

Dean couldn't help but think that Sam's hard headedness had finally been useful. His skull might have taken a licking and kept on ticking but the same couldn't be said for his cheek -- it now sported a spectacular bruise. It fit right in with the finger marks dotting his jaw and the bruises around his neck. It also balanced out his black eye.

----------

Dean ran down to the cafeteria to grab a quick bite to eat and some coffee. Sam was still sleeping off the effects of his cast versus cheek disaster (score one point for the cast) and Dean really needed a break.

How had they come to this? It seemed like Sam had spent the better part of a year in the hospital but that was a slight exaggeration. He just wanted Sammy to get healthy and then they could get back to doing what they did best. Although it was Dean's thirst for action that had triggered Sam's sudden decline. At least that's the way it seemed to him.

While lingering over his coffee, Dean realized he hadn't thought about his Dad or his whispered words to Dean before he abruptly died. Maybe his grief was finally subsiding. No, more likely he just hadn't had any time to think on it since watching out for Sam had consumed so much of his energy lately.

With a final swallow Dean felt the last of the coffee burn in the pit of his stomach. Acid reflux or anxiety?

A wave of hopelessness washed over Dean. He considered himself an adrenaline junkie but he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep up the pace.

_Man, I really need a vacation._

Not one for much introspection, Dean pulled out his cell phone and dialed the Roadhouse. Maybe Ash could do some leg work on his computer while they were holed up in the hospital.

He knew Dr. Osmond was in on it but he didn't know why. His first order of business was to find him and make him talk.

Dean wouldn't be able to relax until he figured out who was after Sam and how to stop them.

----------

When Dean returned to Sam's room he found his little brother stirring awake.

Sam stretched out in the bed and grimaced in pain. There was a new pain to catalog. He reached up to touch his throbbing right cheek.

Dean watched in amazement as Sam lifted his right hand, cast and all, and placed it on a trajectory to meet his cheek again. Dean lunged forward and caught Sam's arm before it made contact.

"Jesus, Sam. It was so much fun the first time you thought you'd do it again?" Dean bit out as he dropped Sam's arm back to his side none too gently.

Sam flinched back against his pillows and looked at Dean with confusion.

Dean swallowed back a curse and regret. Sam couldn't seem to remember that he had a cast and he certainly didn't remember laying himself out by smacking it against his cheek. Dr. Larsen had warned him that Post Concussive Syndrome played havoc with a person's short term memory. Sam was a shining example of this at the moment.

"Hello, McFly," Dean made as if he was knocking on Sam's forehead. "I guess you forgot you have a cast now," Dean finished with as much patience as he could muster.

Sam brought his uninjured hand up and fingered his bruised cheek, nodding in understanding.

Dean hooked a foot around 'his' chair and pulled it up next to Sam. "How's your head doing?" Dean asked with concern. Just looking at Sam's collection of bruises made Dean's own head ache.

Sam started to raise his right hand, felt the weight of the cast, and instead lifted his left hand and indicated so-so.

Dean tried to conceal his exasperation. Sam kept trying to use his right hand.

"Do you want something for the pain?" Dean asked although he was certain it was an exercise in futility. He wasn't disappointed when Sam set his mouth in a mutinous expression and shook his head no.

Dean decided to change the topic. "Well, why you were taking a cast induced siesta, I called Ash and asked him to see what he could find on Dr. Osmond. Ash will call me when he has something," Dean brought Sam up to speed.

Sam winced at the first mention of Ash. Pain ignited at the back of his head when Dean said Dr. Osmond's name. He knew he should be making some sort of connection but by the time his brother uttered Ash's name for the last time Sam was too busy fighting extreme nausea to think about it.

Sam brought both hands up to cradle his head as pain danced across it.

Dean's quick reflexes saved him from another collision with the cast.

"Dude, is there a magnet in this cast? You can't keep it off your cheek." Dean exclaimed.

Sam rested back against his pillow, misery etched on his face.

"You ready for the pain meds yet?" Dean asked without expecting an answer. Reaching forward he depressed the call light. Leaning back he tried to get comfortable. It looked like it was going to be a long night.

----------

Despite Sam's run in with his cast he continued to mend and as promised Dr. Larsen signed his discharge papers a few days later.

Sam sat in a wheelchair, his attention wandering around the room, unable to focus on the aftercare instructions Dr. Larsen was discussing. Sam's lack of attention span was due to the Post Concussive Syndrome and Dean couldn't wait for Sam to get better and leave it behind. Not only did Dean find it worrisome but it was really irritating because he had to repeat everything multiple times if Sam was going to have even a chance of remembering it.

Dean listened raptly as Dr. Larsen droned on about Sam's feeding and care: "Now remember, if Sam has to take more than three doses of this pain medication for his headaches within a twenty-four hour period you need to contact me because this might be a symptom of a more serious problem. And he needs to completely rest his voice for one more week and if everything is going well we'll have a speech therapist work with Sam at that time. He's going to be weak initially so someone will have to help him with his ADL's..."

After a while Dean found his own attention wandering as he tried to concentrate on Dr. Larsen's words. The task of taking care of Sam now was more daunting than ever. What if he did something wrong or missed a symptom? He just couldn't stand the thought of Sam having another decline. Neither one of them was strong enough at the moment to deal with it.

Not for the first time Dean found himself wishing he could have just a few moments of peace without having to take care of Sam. He would be completely lost without that responsibility but after the last couple of months, with medical emergency on top of emergency, Dean craved some alone time.

If Sam had only agreed to staying at Bobby's…then Dean could pursue some leads on Dr. Osmond and recharge his battery.

But Sam was his responsibility and he couldn't forsake it.

Dr. Larsen interrupted Dean's thoughts, "So please sign here to show that you understand these instructions," the doctor said as he handed Dean a clipboard. "And here's a copy of the instructions," he said as he handed Dean what seemed like a ream of papers.

"Sam, I'll expect to see you back here in one week for your check up, okay?" Dr. Larsen asked Sam who roused himself enough to realize this was goodbye. Sam held his left hand out and grasped Dr. Larsen's hand and mouthed the words 'thank you.'

"Just take care of yourself. That's all the thanks I need," the doctor responded with a smile on his face. He nodded to Dean before leaving the room.

Just then Dean's cell phone rang. Dean's lips stretched into a small smile as he noted the caller on the display. "Hey, Bobby…We're just leaving the hospital…Where?...Okay, sure…He probably should be resting but this should just take a couple of minutes to check out, right?...Thanks, Bobby." Dean nodded his head as he disconnected his call.

There was a gas station not far from the hospital where Ash had found a debit transaction on Dr. Osmond's bank card.

Dean took in his brother's slightly spacey expression and let out a small sigh. He loved Sam but taking care of him was turning into a full time job. It couldn't be helped. His brother needed him and he wasn't going to fail him.

"We're going to take a little detour on the way to Bobby's," Dean explained to Sam whose head was tilted inquisitively. "Buckle up and hang on," Dean said as he released the brake on Sam's wheelchair.

The rest of the phrase sprang to Dean's mind unbidden…w_e're in for a bumpy ride_.

Finis

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A/N: Well that's the end of this ride. I hope it wasn't too bumpy. I'd like to thank Faye Dartmouth, again, for all of her ideas. I couldn't ask for a better beta. I've already started on the last story in this arc, The Outsiders. Hopefully I can convince Faye to make the final leg of the trip with me.

Thanks again for anyone who read this story and especially those who reviewed.


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